For Victory
by Blood.Stained.Fingers
Summary: Exhausted and isolated in a war that has barely begun, twelve year old Harry is willing to do anything to get rid of Voldemort. That's why he was a prime target for Tom Riddle to manipulate into freeing him from his paper prison. Even though they both have different reasons for wanting the Dark Lord's death, they are both willing to do anything for victory. Dark!fic
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer – I do not own Harry Potter.**

**Important A/N- Right, this story is AU – very AU, especially in the fact that Harry is more of a normal eleven year old boy who is a little selfish, not really that noble and gives into pressure quite easily. **

**Also, JK said that Voldemort was a psychopath – I'm not sure what books she was reading when she diagnosed him that but he isn't. I've applied my knowledge from my readings about psychopaths and have tried to make my Voldemort as psychopathic as possible. Hopefully, I have succeeded.**

**This story is to help me plod my way through writer's block (understatement) but I'm hoping my writing doesn't reflect how much trouble I am having. This is also going to be a dark fic - very dark, as this ****war **is going to be as realistic as I can make it.  


**Please forgive any mistakes that you find as I am sure there will be some.**

**For Victory**

All of Harry's life he wanted to be a normal child yet all his life he had been anything but.

He wasn't selfless and noble, he was eleven years old and like all children he was a little selfish – maybe not to the same extent as other children around him but he still didn't want to give up his life for the philosopher's stone.

Despite the whisperings of the sorting hat about being put in Slytherin, Harry still firmly aspired to the Gryffindor ideals as he knew that the wizarding world would accept a Gryffindor Harry Potter more than a Slytherin one.

It was easy to pick up on the negative atmosphere towards Slytherin on the train to Hogwarts and Harry had always been good at picking up on the atmosphere – it was key to his survival in the Dursley household.

It was through being this attuned to his surroundings that Harry understood the role he was supposed to play in school life…and that was why he had been pushed into finding the philosopher's stone. His friends expected him to get the damned thing when he really just wanted to tell a teacher – they wouldn't let first year students charge into this type of situation would they?

The only reason Harry had gone after the troll was because the troll was already there with Hermione in the bathroom and he didn't have the chance to back out – all he could do was fight.

It didn't mean he wanted to though – he was only eleven after all.

Though it was the pressure and fear of losing his friends (_children wanting an adventure and not knowing what they were getting into_) that had lead him here, facing the darkest wizard alive whom was on the back of Professor Quirrell's head.

Harry was in well over his head and like any other eleven year old he was scared. Yet he was also oddly entranced by the chalk white face with blazing red eyes that was promising the only thing Harry truly wanted.

His parents.

There were in the mirror, the same mirror in which he had retrieved the stone from, and they looked on encouragingly at him. _Give him the stone, Harry._

Harry wanted to say something, _anything_ but all he could do was stare mesmerised by the flickering image of his smiling parents in the mirror.

He wanted to yell _LIAR!_ He wanted to scream himself hoarse with the anger and the fear.

Voldemort smiled grotesquely as he saw Harry's struggle and the image of James and Lily smiled softly at Harry again.

"You do not have to fight, Harry." The man whispered huskily, his red eyes glimmering gleefully unable to project softness.

Harry wanted to believe that so much, he wanted to be a normal eleven year old enjoying a school of magic. He was Harry Potter though, he was not allowed that and _why couldn't he say anything?_

The courage that had filled him when fighting the troll and through each safety measure that protected the stone had fled in the face of this hideous monster.

He knew Voldemort was lying – he couldn't bring Harry's parents back – he just couldn't. Even if he could, how would Harry cope to suddenly having parents to care for him, to restrict him – it was too late and it wouldn't work but he still wanted it.

He felt the jagged stone in his pocket, the sharp edges scraping the tips of his fingers as he pulled it out. He didn't know why he pulled it out, perhaps subconsciously he wanted to tease Voldemort with something he wanted to stop the man's mocking…to make his parents and their smiling accepting faces go away and stop haunting him.

Voldemort caught the movement, his eyes widening and darkening as he saw the gleaming stone catching the light of the fires. For that second, the images of James and Lily flickered with the same expression of greed, their faces cold and hard.

Harry would never be sure why he was so shocked and startled by the change – after all, they were conjured by Voldemort but he felt ice pool in stomach and his body inadvertently stiffening.

Harry felt his fingers spasm around the stone and it slipped from his grasp. He heard it fall, the loud clatter of the hard stone falling down the stairs. It felt as though time had slowed down as the stone jumped step by step, edges catching the light as it flipped in the air.

Down,

Down,

…And landed by Quirrell's feet, softly bumping into his shoe and entangling with the length of purple fabric that had served as his turban.

Harry started in surprise and his breathing stopped as Quirrell bent down and his pale hand and fingers snatched up the red rock.

The sound the man made was equal parts amused and pleased.

"Why, thank you Harry." He hummed softly, the smile on Voldemort's face was dark and satisfied before he met Harry's eyes and allowed the smiling images of James and Lily to suddenly twist in horror and agony as they were consumed in flames. Harry gasped at the horrid detail in the images as his parents skin charred, great flaps of it hanging of their arms and faces.

The Dark Lord watched Harry's expression in cold delight, laughing at the horrified expression on the eleven years old boy's face, before he ordered Quirrell "Kill the boy."

Harry turned and tried to run up the many stairs after hearing that even though the large flames were blocking the exit.

A sudden weight hitting his back sent him tumbling into the stone steps face first, only his hands darting out to catch himself stopping his face from being crushed brutally. A cold hand was at the back of his neck and another snatched at his shoulder, pulling at the jumper he was wearing. He was flipped over to face the pale, gaunt face of Quirrell who was sweating with concentration and pain.

His right hand wrapped around Harry's neck, the touched seared with pain and Harry felt the overly hot touch on his throat squeezing and constricting. Harry opened his mouth to let out a gargle of a scream before his own tiny child hand wrapped around the constricting fingers trying to pry them off.

The odd smell of burning started to fill the air and Quirrell's skin becoming hard and cracked under Harry's fingers. The professor let out a wail of agony, pulling his hand away from Harry in a sharp jerk-like movement, revealing the man's hand in the shape of a gnarled claw as the burn creeped across the healthy flesh turning it to ash. The hand dropped to the floor with a combination of a wet thud and a _whoosh_ of ashes scattering across the ground. The man's blood filled fingers continued jerking and clenching even as the blackness crawled up them and turned them too into ash. Quirrell's other hand wrapped around his wrist as though it wasn't a cauterised stump while a grating sound of agony was forced through clenched teeth and pursed lips.

"You fool! Kill the boy!" Voldemort shrieked, his voice marred with vicious anger and searing pain and his snake like face was twisted into a monstrous mask.

Quirrell's head bent backwards as he tried to ride out the pain before he snapped it back to facing Harry, his dark eyes reflecting the flickering flames and his mouth pulled down into a sneer that bared his teeth. With a coarse yell, he pulled out his wand with his left hand and held it remarkably steady, the tip starting to glow a fierce and brilliant green.

Harry, acting on an instinct he had never felt before, ran towards the man before he could curse him and leapt at him with outstretched hands. Harry's eyes squinted shut as he flew through the air…and then he heard the sizzle of flesh. He could feel the bridge of the man's nose bend under his thumb like rubber as the man melted.

Harry's hands stung but he held in the sounds of pain he wanted to make as he sunk with Quirrell's disintegrating body. He knew the man was screaming with agony, though he could only hear the blood thumping against his eardrums and his heart breaking through his ribs. He could feel Quirrell's mouth opening and twisting as he screamed and could feel the spittle being flung from Quirrell's mouth landing on the back of his hands… it was cold compared to the heat pouring of the professor's burning face. The man's tongue was squirming with the amount of noise he was making and Harry could feel how dry it was becoming. Harry wanted to retch.

Harry's feet soon reached the floor as the body beneath him gave way to ashes. Harry backed away on unstable feet and shaky legs, his eyes wide behind ashy lenses and his hands blackened and pulsating with pain. He wanted to cry out to someone right now, wanted anyone to tell him it was okay – even though it blatantly wasn't! There was a man slowly consumed by flames and making the most god awful sounds in pain as he did so.

Voldemort was screaming also but more out of anger than anything else and Harry felt a vicious thrill shoot up his spine at the sight of Voldemort twisting in pain. The thrill soon turned to fear as he saw Voldemort start to remove himself from Quirrell, his body stretching like elastic, teeth gleaming white as he bore a victorious smirk when he freed himself from the burning man.

There was a wet noise, like when someone sucks their mouth in and their lips makes an almost 'pop' like sound, as Voldemort removed himself and the back of Quirrell's head came with it, a spray of blood, ash and cooked brain sloshing out of his skull.

The rest of Quirrell turned slowly to ash, crumbing and screaming in agony but Voldemort was a wraith and had the life-giving stone clutched in his gnarled claw of a hand. Harry heard the horrid hiss of a laugh and Harry's scar lit with pain as it never had before until his vision went white….then black. He heard more than felt his bones hit the steps as he fell, his body juddering as he fell into unconsciousness.

-** For Victory**-

He was awoken sharply but Dumbledore's aged hands shaking him urgently, the man's blue eyes worried behind his half-moon glasses. Harry noticed the stone ceiling of the secret chamber come into focus as his head pounded angrily. He hadn't even been moved…

"Harry!" Dumbledore whispered, "What happened, my boy?" His tone was urgent and Harry's vision swam as he sharply turned his head to look at the Headmaster.

Harry's breath caught, dizziness making his stomach flip, before he whispered. "Voldemort. He-he's got the stone!"

Dumbledore looked at him unblinkingly for an infinite moment before crushing disappointment seemed to shutter his gaze. "It will be alright, my boy." He patted Harry's shoulder gently, though his tone contradicted his words. "Let's get you to the hospital wing, shall we?"

Harry was pulled to his feet and a feeling of shame filled him, as though he had let the Headmaster down greatly, but really? Was saving the stone an eleven year old boy's duty? It shouldn't be but Harry felt that he had let everyone down immensely. In a way he had, but who puts a stone like that in a school? How did Voldemort even get into Hogwarts?

Harry noticed that his scar hadn't stopped burning since the confrontation and it continually simmered even now the Dark Lord was gone.

It was only two weeks later when Harry's scar burst open in agony and he received his first vision of the Dark Lord's return and the beginning of the war.

**-For Victory-**

Harry's second year had been awful. Awful was an understatement.

The papers had run his name through the mud _Potter or Plotter?_ They were calling him a liar among other names, they also run the Headmaster's name down_ Dumbledore: Daft or Dangerous?_ Harry could see the distrust in everyone's eyes and the cold disbelief that the Dark Lord was back, only did Malfoy not look at him with disbelief but a smug, arrogant glare. Harry also hadn't had a decent night's sleep for the whole year, every night filled with blood, torture and pain. The purple bags under his eyes grew darker and larger every day. The only positive was the fact that the visions had shown Arthur Weasely's attack by Voldemort's snake. Occlumency hadn't helped in the slightest, though Snape had also said Harry was too young to really learn the mind arts.

Harry felt very isolated and alone, no one was telling him anything and no one was there to support him. He wondered about the mysterious corridor that he always saw but no one would help in the slightest and Dumbledore avoided him even though the man seemed to have a very active interest in Harry through other people.

His friendship with Ron and Hermione became strained with his shortening temper and their fear of the prospect of Voldemort returning. Harry could also tell that Ron was a little angry and disillusioned about the supposed greatness of the Boy-Who-Lived. _It wasn't fair._

On top of that the Heir of Slytherin had risen again and Ron's little sister Ginny was missing. Ron had given Harry a look that begged for him to help and apart of Harry jumped at the chance to prove himself. So, Harry had figured out where the chamber was and went down it to get Ginny. He hadn't had a chance to think about what he was doing yet – perhaps if he had he would have told a teacher where to find the chamber instead, but then again, would they believe him? Harry was sick of being called a liar so he went himself. He constantly felt he had something to prove.

When he finally arrived at the chamber he was dirty, smelly and even more tired than normal.

Unnoticed by Harry, a boy was leaning against one of the statues, his arms crossed over his chest and Ginny's wand hanging loosely from deft fingers. The boy looked up from his contemplation at the sound of Harry's hurried steps. He watched the small boy stagger up to the prone form of Ginny and fall to his knees as he tried to rouse her.

Riddle smiled apathetically as Harry frantically tried to shake the girl to consciousness, the pitch of his voice increasing and it wavered uncertainly as the girl remained unresponsive.

Harry was panicking.

Her flesh was almost like ice, except her temples which held lingering warmth. Her pulse was weak and flittering and Harry didn't know whether he dared to move her or not.

"Hello, Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived." A voice spoke from behind him and Harry jumped to his feet sharply, clutching his wand between sweaty fingers as he turned to see who had spoken.

The boy was tall and thin, very good looking although wearing an old fashioned uniform. He was smiling, a small and soft smile that did nothing to appease Harry's growing sense of unease. He didn't feel frightened though – this was odd but he was only a boy, right?

"Who are you?" He demanded quickly, mindful of Ginny's deteriorating condition.

"Ginny knows me as Tom Riddle, but I have gone by other names too." The boy – Riddle – looked at Ginny in what could only be an indulgent, fond look that a parent would give to a messy and thick child.

Harry didn't like that look, although looking patronising and sympathetic, it held a hint of maliciousness and cruel delight that turned Harry's stomach and set his nerves alight. "How did you get here…and _what_ are you wearing?" He asked, as he discreetly manoeuvred himself in front of Ginny, blocking the other boy's line of sight.

Riddle gave him a look of incredulity, as if he was shocked that Harry didn't know who he was, before a smile smoothed over the handsome features. "I am a memory preserved in a diary for fifty years." He ran his hands down his blazer jacket before saying "I am wearing my school uniform." He looked at both Harry and what he could see of Ginny, "It has clearly changed a lot since my time."

Harry hummed distrustfully under his breath. "How come _you're_ here?" Harry pressed, feeling a little bit of confidence return because the boy didn't seem too dangerous and even maintained a fair distance away… but he was holding a wand. "Is that Ginny's wand?"

"What?" Riddle questioned, a little shocked at the sudden second question. "Hmm, oh yes, you see Ginny wanted me here – remembered me, as it were. She leant me her wand, after all she did invite me."

"….B-but _how?_" Harry spluttered angrily and full of confusion.

"I hear that Lord Voldemort has returned." Riddle said, all of a sudden with a spontaneous burst of energy. He gave the impression of the topic only just coming to mind but to someone who was on edge as Harry, who had and entire year of mistrust and abuse, the look in the elder boy's eyes was too sharp – he had been dying to bring the topic up, dying to talk about it and the look reflected the maddened obsession the boy had with it.

Instantly Harry became still and his jaw clenched. Despite the whole year of his constant insistence that the man was back, he suddenly felt the instinct to not say a word to this _memory. _

"Yeah," Harry said carefully, his eyes narrowed. "Why do you want to know? What's Voldemort to you?"

Riddle's impassive face creased in anger, the smooth skin tightening around his eyes and the lips pulling down. "Voldemort is very important to me, Potter." He stated coolly, pushing himself of the serpent statue. "In fact, his return is of the utter most importance to me and Ginny was ever so helpful regarding information about that."

Harry scowled, feeling oddly betrayed by the girl – even though he barely knew her. "She did?" He asked as he licked his lips nervously.

"Oh _yes_, she told me _all_ about it!" Riddle continued in perverse glee. "_Poor Harry_!_ Oh Tom! It's awful how they are treating him!_" It was a uncanny imitation of the young girl. "I have heard some of the headlines from the Daily Prophet too." Riddle made a hissing sound as though wounded. "They are rather cruel – especially seeing as you're…twelve is it?" He waited for Harry's reluctant nod before he continued. "A twelve year old defeated the Dark Lord and is now being bullied by the papers for saying that Voldemort is back." He smiled lazily. "If there was ever negative consequences for the truth…It isn't fair is, Harry?"

"What has Voldemort got to do with you?" Harry demanded, feeling a little perturbed by the unnerving manner of the other boy.

"I am Voldemort!" Riddle said with irritation, and he waved his hand in arrogance. "Voldemort is an anagram of my birth name!" He seemed oddly dismissive of that fact, as though he was keen to return to the teasing of Harry.

Harry felt as though he had been slapped, he stopped breathing for a moment and his heart skipped a beat. "You're…Voldemort?"

"Yes, yes-" Riddle acknowledged but waved away the importance of it, frowning thoughtfully. After a second it was gone and replaced with a macabre teasing look. "How did an infant defeat me? What act of insanity did I commit to end up _dead?_"

Harry had no answer but fortunately Riddle didn't seem to want one as he eyed Harry speculatively. "What was so special about you, Harry Potter?" He looked Harry up and down and seemed to find him lacking – not that Harry did not think so himself. "I must be hunting you, Harry Potter, I must be. My pride must be sorely injured due to you. Am I hunting you?" Riddle started to circle Harry and Ginny, hands clasped behind his back with Ginny's wand held calmly between the two. "No need to answer that, of course I am." Riddle stopped and pivoted on his heels, facing Harry directly. "Yet, here you are. Still alive." Though the voice and face of the teen was calm, his eyes blazed with anger. "I am not doing well in this future of mine, am I?" The boy briefly looked down at his shiny immaculate shoes before asking. "Who is helping you?"

"…What?" Harry asked

"Who is training you? You idiot – who is helping you survive?"

"What? No-one." Harry affirmed, feeling stupid and oddly vulnerable.

"Oh, _Merlin!_ Really?" Riddle's grin was large and manic as he bent over in silent laughter. "Oh, really Harry? This is much too precious!" He placed a hand over his ghostly stomach as though it ached. "Of course I know about that farce of extra potions lessons you were having with that Snape." He continued as though he hadn't laughed. "Lovely Ginny told me that her brother told her that you were having Occlumency lessons, not that they have done any good – even I can see that from here." Harry blinked in surprise at the secret being revealed. "Yes," Riddle continued upon seeing Harry's look, "That one couldn't keep her mouth shut about anyone!" He started to move again, his leg movements exaggerated as though he was struggling to walk. "Even beloved Dumbledore has abandoned you in your hour of need!"

Harry would have loved to have stood up for Dumbledore at that moment but the feelings of resentment and loneliness had built up over the year. He scowled a little at the man's name.

"Oh Harry? No defence for your headmaster? I'm ashamed!" Riddle laughed a little, his voice sounded more rich and vibrant and with a little more life behind it. "Then again, Dumbledore has as good as left you to rot. He has been kicked out of the school hasn't he? He has left you all alone to face the horrors of the world – and trust me Harry, I am out there, so there are horrors waiting for you."

Riddle let the silence build and become turgid for a few moments before he casually dropped into the conversation.

"I can train you, if you like?" He asked as he twirled the wand with his left hand, his focus on the wood as it spun before he turned to meet Harry's eyes with his own dark ones. He lifted a brow in question, and Harry got the distinct impression that the boy was laughing at him, though only the slightest twitch of his lips suggested so.

"Why should I trust you?" He asked, standing up from where he had kneeled by Ginny's cooling, pale body and moving himself in front of her. _Perhaps he could recompense if he stopped _this_ Voldemort…_ "Why should I trust the future Voldemort?" He hissed angrily, shifting his feet in case he needed to snatch the wand from Riddle.

The teen looked even more amused now, as the spinning wand stopped with an abrupt movement as Riddle's fingers wrapped around the wood sharply and pointed it at Harry. "We want the same thing, don't we?" He circled Harry, his feet making no sound on the damp floor and his swishing robe making no noise either. "I want my elder counterpart out of the way as much you do. He is clearly insane and incompetent if he cannot kill a child… Or, perhaps you are more than you seem, Harry Potter, either way you've caused a lot of trouble. Too much, I think for it to be coincidence." He looked at Harry with consideration "And really? Two of me? I don't think you want two of me around now, do you Harry?"

Harry's jaw tightened with his anger and his tired eyes struggled to keep on the fasting moving wand which was now twirling again.

"I know Voldemort better than anyone else, Harry." Riddle continued, moving closer to him again. "We both do not want him here, do we? Why not let me help you?" He asked, as he leant closer to Harry. Riddle smiled, suddenly and dashingly, Harry found it almost hard to believe it wasn't genuine but the smile was too oiled, too slick and too…_practised_ and those dark eyes were cold and dead – like a shark's. "No strings attached." He tilted his head to the side, like a cruel inquisitive bird, making him seem less genuine by the second. "I promise."

Harry stare sharpened and he hissed out from clenched teeth "You're lying!"

Riddle's face didn't change in the slightest – only a quick blink before he spoke again. "Okay, maybe I am lying a little bit." He finally moved out of Harry's face and backed away again and leant on one of the damp serpent statues. "But, Harry Potter – who else has tried to train you?" The boy put his acquired wand in his ghostly pocket. "Who else will? I'm sure Dumbledore will step up to the mantle soon though – or will he just wait until it's too late?"

Harry was struck dumb by the statement – in his heart he wanted to snort dismissively and tell Riddle that of course Dumbledore would help him, train him but the behaviour from the man this year suggested otherwise.

"Harry – you're twelve years old – and fighting against a Dark Lord who is fifty-four years your senior." Riddle continued, looking perversely amused by this as he smiled at Harry's worried face. "You _need_ help – and here I am, the only one offering it to you."

Harry shifted anxiously on the balls of his feet, feeling the cold dampness of the place sink into his bones. Licking his suddenly dry lips he tried to pull up a feeble defence "Someone will-" but he found himself stuck for words – he'd had no help this year, apart from the feeble attempts at Occlumency that Snape had tried. Nothing but sleepless nights full of blood, sweat and tears, the papers abusing him and dragging his name through the mud and _no one_ doing anything about it.

He remembered the isolation and embittered loneliness of the year and the fragile support of Hermione and Ron – but even that wasn't much their friendship was only a couple of years old and the forging of it was not entirely strong enough to survive the storm of angry newspapers and the calls of liar.

Harry rolled his tongue around his mouth worriedly, looking steadfastly way from Riddle's smug face but keeping his eyes on the boy's hands and movements. Riddle made no sound, nor movement, only tapped his fingers in a pattern on his thigh.

Harry didn't relax but asked "What would this training involve?"

Riddle smiled and it had a horrid edge to it, "Anything you like, and everything you need." He held his hands open in a welcoming gesture that did nothing to appease Harry's fear.

Harry then asked "And if I refuse?"

Riddle smiled, a leer with his shiny white teeth bared as he pointed Ginny's wand at the giant statue of Slytherin surrounded by stagnant water. "I'll call the basilisk, she enjoys her outings and even more so when she is allowed to eat man flesh." Riddle stared at him, before turning his back on Harry, "But, Harry, we both know I shan't need to do that because you have already decided to accept my offer."

Harry wanted to object but this version of Voldemort was going to _help_ him – obviously to his own ends but if Harry stood any chance of ever beating Voldemort he needed training that no one else seemed to be offering him. Of course, training with Riddle would also mean exposing all his weaknesses to him…but in the end something was better than nothing, right?

"Very good, Harry!" Riddle applauded as though Harry had consented verbally but the grin sent his way showed that Riddle knew exactly what Harry had been thinking and the exact moment Harry had decided.

"What about Ginny?" Harry questioned as he looked down at the prone body of his best friend's sister.

"Your first lesson is now and it is sacrifice." Riddle said, as he walked up to the dying girl and Harry realised how he could hear Riddle's footfalls as he crossed the wet floor. Harry could hear the water being dislodged from puddles in wet sploshes and when Riddle was almost next to him he could feel the slight disruption in the air.

His heart rate sped up and he croaked "Sacrifice?"

"Yes," Riddle put his hand on Harry's shoulder – it was cold and ghostly but oh so _very_ real and heavy as he pulled Harry away from the almost grey girl. "One of the most powerful, important lessons you'll learn. In order for me to live, Ginny must die."

Harry stirred against the tone and tried to remove himself from Riddle's grip hold in protest.

"Ah, but Harry, without this sacrifice you lose your teacher."

"You're not worth her life!" Harry protested

"Fine then! Try and stop me – and if you succeed you'll be accorded the honour of witnessing her death by someone else!" Riddle's grip on Harry's shoulder was almost brutal. "Probably a more painful, bloody death than this one. Although, she is a pureblood – she may become a concubine for someone."

Harry frowned at the word concubine in incomprehension and Riddle clarified "Whore."

Harry felt winded and wanted to disbelieve Riddle but the boy kept digging in the verbal knife and twisting the blade. "Some men like them as young as her – get as many bastard children out of her as possible. After all, pureblood is pureblood and seeing as she is from a family of blood-traitors…the less she enjoys the process, the better. Many are in the mind-set that blood-traitors need to be punished. But, if you are sure, by all means try and stop this."

Harry felt a tightness in his throat and his stomach swirled with partially digested food. He swallowed the feeling of sickness. Could he let that possibly happen to Ginny by letting her live? He looked over his shoulder slyly at the spectre and wondered could he stop him?

"You won't be able to, Harry." The boy laughed deeply, richly "You have wasted too much time talking to me. Your endeavour would be for naught. You would be dead and so would little Ginny." Riddle's hand ran across Harry's back, the icy fingers brushing the nape of Harry's neck. Harry felt all the hairs on his body rise at the contact, the animalistic sense of predator and prey dominating his senses. "But Harry, I can save you – and Ginny. All you have to do is let me."

Harry could see Ginny's veins now, under her pale and grey clammy skin. Her feet were twitching and her fingers gave little spasms and convulsions every few seconds. Her breathing was exceptionally laboured, her tiny chest heaving with effort as she tried to continue onwards. Harry could see she was almost dead.

So, Harry had to choose to let her die or die with her.

…But if Harry died here, then who else would die due to Voldemort?

How could he choose between Ginny and someone else?

"Well?" Riddle asked and it seemed so unnervingly loud in the cavern, and it rung with all the authority of a judge, jury and executioner.

Harry swallowed his own guilt and self-hatred and struggled as he turned away from Ginny's dying body and faced young Voldemort. He bit the innards of his cheeks in nervousness as the elder boy smiled at him in that oiled fashion. It scared Harry how realistic the manner seemed – probably easily fooling many others, including Ginny but to Harry it was just a little too rehearsed. He could imagine Riddle practising facial expressions in the mirror to fool others.

"I'm glad you chose this, Harry." Riddle continued, smirking as Harry winced when Ginny made an odd choking sound as though something in her throat had collapsed. "Do not mind her, Harry. It will not be long now."

"What will happen afterwards?" Harry cringed as more choking sounds came from behind him.

Riddle looked the picture of innocence "Why spoil the surprise?"

Harrt felt queasy and appalled at Riddle after he said that, so instead he asked. "What do I call you? Tom?"

"I am not Tom!" The boy hissed as all traces of good humour fell from his features.

"You're not Voldemort yet!" Harry retorted.

"I am Lord Voldemort now!" Riddle spat, and the vicious hiss rang out in the empty cavern. "I will not use my filthy muggle father's name ever again!"

"Well, I can't call both of you Voldemort!"

"I am to be your teacher! You should call me master – most students do to the one who teaches them!"

"You are not my master!" Harry yelled in revulsion, the echo repeating what he said again and again.

The way Riddle's lips tightened and his eyes seemed to burn told Harry that Riddle thought much differently but the tight lips pulled upwards into a macabre mockery of a smile. "What do you wish to call me, Harry?"

Harry paused for a moment – he didn't know, Voldemort (though Riddle was him on the inside) was out and Tom seemed too _human_ for him. Harry could think of a whole range of names to call Riddle as well, none of them complimentary. He then indulged the idea of using the name Junior – after all Riddle was named after his father, but Harry could imagine the way the boy's teeth would gnash together, chewing the inside of his cheeks in fury and possibly turning his wand on Harry. In the end he said "Riddle."

Riddle gave him a look of distaste but didn't object, crossing his arms and leaning against the statues again.

In the uncomfortable silence that followed Harry slid down to the floor and hugged his knees as he waited for Ginny to die and Riddle to live. His leg was juddering with fear and self-loathing and he pressed his dirty face into his knees.

Riddle watched with an almost indulgent smile as he became stronger and his organs began to become real, his heart beginning to weight more and beat strongly and his toes began to feel cold from his thin shoes on the cold floor.

"So, Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived…_killer_, tell me about yourself, you see, I've only heard what Ginny has told me and what she said was hearsay." Riddle asked, almost jovially, mostly cruel satisfaction.

Harry just stared at him from the floor, chin on his kneecaps.

_What did he say? _

_How could he even respond that?_

_What had he agreed to?_

Harry was horrified but a part of him knew that this came with the deal…and in the end; he was doing this for victory.

**A/N – Please let me know what you think? **

**If there is demand for this story then I'll continue, if not I'll recycle bits for other fics :P**

**So please review and let me know?**

**Also, a special thanks to Amanda2308 for helping me get through writer's block :D And thanks to ****Emriel**** for cheering me up :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer – I do not own Harry Potter.**

**Important A/N! – I'M OVER MY WRITER'S BLOCK! :D Admittedly, the first little bit if still a little blocky but after that we get going and after that I think you can tell that I have got over my writer's block. **

**Right, I have checked this as much as I can, but there are nearly 10500 words here so please forgive the mistakes you do find – checking this was a pain :(**

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed :) However, one 'Guest' who said that Voldmort was a sociopath – if you have come back for this chapter I refer you to this '**J.K. Rowling has described Voldemort as the most evil dark wizard for hundreds and hundreds of years[33], a self-hating bully[34], a raging psychopath devoid of empathy[35], a power-hungry racist[36], someone who prefers for his henchmen to do his dirty work for him[37], and that if psychologists were to get Voldemort in a room, pin him down, and take his wand away, he would be classified as a psychopath[38].**' About bullet point 30/31 on - **** harry potter. wi kia . c o m. / wi ki/ Tom_Riddle#Behind_the_scenes - ** That's what I am going on for this fic :)

**Right, in this chapter we get to see more Riddle and although he is a psychopath, he is also only half a soul and more than a little mad :) So, be prepared for weirdness :P**

**Enjoy!**

**For Victory**

Harry staggered through the decrepit tunnels raggedly, his breathing hitching and tightening with the onslaught of grief, anger and self-pity.

_Run, Harry and tell them dear little Ginny was dead when you found her. I'll be gone before you return and I shall come to collect you during the summer. Run, Harry, run and cry. _

Harry tripped on the small bones and stones that littered the tunnel, collapsing onto the giant snake skin, vision watery and tearful. The grey surroundings wobbled as his tears fell. _Oh, and before you go, remember at all times; never look Dumbledore in the eye. Your eyes never lie, Harry._

Harry felt sick with grief and horror.

_Oh God!...Christ…Merlin! Mum! Dad! What have I done?!_ Harry choked, the grey walls reminding him of Ginny's grey skin.

He wanted to be sick, he could feel his stomach churning and clenching like it was in someone's clenching fist. _He'd killed Ginny!_

His head fell, as though the support holding it up had left, and he sobbed, his hands cupping his face and hiding the shameful truth of his selfish, full of self-pity tears from the world. His limbs felt bandy and weak, like numb bony jelly folded under his body weight. _What had he done?_

Harry hooked his glasses of with his fingers, intending to throw them to the ground, but they clung to the tips of his fingers, sliding slowly and falling harmlessly to the gravelly floor. Harry wanted to howl at the debasement of what he had done but wouldn't allow himself to do so. It was his shame and his burden…his fault.

Harry's face felt hot and wet, sticky and swollen. _Oh God!_ Harry wiped under his eyes angrily, the self-pity was the worst aspect. _How dare he pity himself after all the damage he had done?!_

He pushed himself up on buckling legs and moved forwards – to sit there and pity himself – it was criminal that he had the cheek to pity himself when he had killed his ex-best friend's sister! _You've made this choice, Potter, deal with it!_ Harry finally managed to wade through the sea of animal bones until he reached the giant pipe. He eyed the giant skid mark of scattered bones where he had been flung from the gritty and dirty pipe on his way down. He imagined he would be terribly bruised by tomorrow.

Harry looked up the black pipe and couldn't figure out how to get back up the damn thing but then he remembered the spell that Riddle had whispered in his ear before he left the boy behind in the chamber.

He managed to say it, through hiccups and a throat thick with tears. He soon found out what it did when all the bones he had been standing on stuck to the soles of his shoes. He managed to sit on the edge of the pipe and pry the bones of his shoes before completely climbing into the metal tube.

His feet stuck to the pipe, as did his hands and he slowly climbed up and up the dirty metal. He could feel his weak limbs wanting to collapse as he climbed, sweat dripping off his forehead and mixing with tears as he pulled himself up bit by bit.

When he got up to the top, huffing and puffins as he hooked his legs up onto flat stable ground, he lay on floor breathing heavily and not moving his hollow feeling limbs. _Thank god Myrtle wasn't there!_ Harry finally got up and managed to stagger through the corridors mindlessly and lost, barely seeing or feeling anything, until he met Dumbledore who looked at him with pity and disappointment…like he already knew what had happened. _Do not look in his eyes._ Harry focused on the crooked nose… the beard…let Dumbledore think it was shame that caused his avoidance of eye contact.

"She's dead." Harry croaked voice full of tears. "God, she's dead."

"Oh, Harry." Dumbledore whispered, full of sorrow.

Harry felt his legs buckling and he slid to the floor, his knees ricocheting with the force he fell with.

_Oh God! He had killed someone – who would ever forgive him?_

_What had he done?!_

**~For Victory~**

Harry had been at the Dursley's for two weeks, two long torturous weeks in which he had been relocked in his room and his food posted through the cat flap at irregular intervals. Guilt often swept over him in waves but started to subside as fear started to creep up on him as he waited in anticipation for Riddle's appearance. Harry could barely stomach any of the meals, his eyes constantly darting to the door at any sound. _Riddle said he would come, but when?!_ Harry was convinced it was a lie – Riddle didn't know where Harry lived – how could he come? He should have thought about the issue when in the chamber with the boy, but on the other hand Harry was almost grateful that Riddle couldn't find him. None the less, the tension never left his shoulders; the fear still had a grip hold on his spine causing him to sit erect and ready to bolt at anything that disturbed the silence.

It was on the second Thursday after Harry had finished his second year at Hogwarts that there was a polite knock at the front door. Harry, who had been lying down and gazing blankly at the ceiling, froze and become tense, slowly pushing himself into a sitting position and waiting with baited breath for someone to answer it.

He felt as though his throat had closed and had stuck together as he perched on the end of his bed, hands clenching around his own knees as he could hear Petunia's footfalls on the carpet approaching the door.

_It'll just one of the neighbours, of course it will, or one of Dudley's friends…Piers or someone. It cannot be _him_, it cannot be._

"Oh, hello, can I help you?" Harry heard Petunia ask sharply, muffled by the walls and closed door.

There was a pause, an infinite pause where Harry's couldn't breathe, even though he needed to and then…

"Hello Madam, may I come in? The matters I wish to discuss are of a confidential nature." A posh, seductive voice asked. Harry's stomach dropped and his eyes widened. _Oh God!_ He swallowed convulsively and tried to calm his suddenly racing heart.

"Oh, of course, please…" Petunia's voice filtered through the ceiling, pleased, flattered and above all _demur_.

Harry heard a polite chuckle and the front door close, as Petunia asked if this _mysterious_ man would like her to take his jacket.

"Oh no, no! Thank you." The voice responded, and then there was a gasp of fear from Petunia. "Now, the boy?" The voice asked coldly. Harry, although he was fairly sure it was Riddle, grabbed one of his school books, one with hard sharp corners.

He could hear Petunia's shaky breathing as she gasped "U-upstairs!"

"Go on then, I shall follow."

The stairs creaked under two sets of feet, the third step groaning angrily at Petunia's weight whilst not making a sound under Riddle's.

Closer and closer they came and Harry got off his bed, fortunately the squeaky mattress made very little sound as he approached the door with his book held over his head, ready to strike the wizard who was coming in. _Just in case it isn't Riddle._

"My lord, muggle, why so many locks?!" The man sounded both angry and amused by what he was seeing. "What are you keeping in there? Surely, not just the boy?!"

Petunia didn't answer but the sound of keys missing their padlocks suggested her hands were trembling and missing the keyholes.

Each one fell away, dropping to the carpeted floor with heavy muffled thuds.

"Move out of the way, muggle." The voice was sharp, irritated…although it was more like thoroughly pissed off. The door handle rattled as the wizard opened it and Harry reached under his pillow, wrapping his hand around his wand. His grip shifted on the book as well – two weapons were better than one, right?!

The door swung open and Harry struggled to see the features of the shadowy figure but the gait and amused hum gave Riddle away as he stepped into the bright room.

"Now, now, Harry. Tut tut." Riddle gave him that empty, blinding smile, "I thought you'd be pleased to see me?" He strode into the room, looking about it with a displeased face, a veneer of disgust thinly disguised as he turned to the lingering Petunia "Go and sit at the dining room table. I will be having a word with you, your husband and your offspring when they return from whatever… _delights_ they are pursuing today. " She nodded shakily and darted away, carefully manoeuvring around the dropped locks and disappearing down the stairs.

Riddle looked around the room, "Lovely place…cosy." He commented, bouncing on the balls of his feet, his hands tucked into his trouser pockets. "Sorry it took me so long to collect you. Harry, I had other priorities I'm afraid."

Harry gave him a look that clearly showed how unimpressed he was about that, before he turned away, still unnerved by those eyes.

Riddle seemed to get bored with the pretence of civility as he took the books scattered on the desk and piled them up.

"Come on, Harry. Pack up!" Riddle leant down to be eye level with Harry and smiled. "Be quick about it – I have alternate accommodation already planned for us."

He stood up and headed towards the door, bending to the ground and picking up the biggest and most garish padlock. He looked at it considering, tossing it up in the air and catching it again with a distracted sound. "Meet me downstairs when you are finished." He muttered softly and he disappeared down the stairs, scaring Petunia as he entered the kitchen – her yelp being heard by Harry upstairs.

Oddly, and with a little bit of vindictiveness Harry found himself smiling at the sound as he opened his trunk and dropped his books in it casually – without care of where they dropped, what they crushed and if the fall damaged them at all.

Harry didn't bother to fold any of his clothes, just stuffed them in carelessly, clearing the room of his belongings. After emptying the cavity under the loose floorboard and making sure the room was clear Harry shut and looked his case. Hedwig glared at him from her cage as he took her cage in his left hand and dragged his trunk down the stairs – rather enjoying the loud _thump thump_ as the trunk thumped down each carpeted step. He wheeled the trunk into the kitchen, and saw Riddle looking out into the garden, leaning with spread hands against the kitchen work surface.

"You packed awfully fast Harry….I bet your clothes will be wrinkled when you get them out – and the damage to your books?" Riddle shook his head, a few loose strands of hair swinging as he did so. "I hope they aren't too damaged, Harry. I expect you to be well acquainted with them sooner or later."

Riddle turned away from the garden and smiled at Harry. "The garden hasn't flourished now that you no longer tend to it. Such a shame." Riddle watched with cold eyes as Harry set Hedwig on the kitchen counter. Harry heard a choked sound and he turned to see Petunia glaring at the bird in distaste and disgust on her clean counter.

She was sitting at the dining room table, a saucer on the lacy table cloth abandoned and a cup of tea cradled in her bony hands.

Riddle smiled in indulgence before picking up a teacup and taking a sip. "Petunia has made tea. Isn't she a dear? Muggles have their uses after all, Harry, who knew?"

Harry half hugged himself with his right arm, cupping his left in a tight grip. He looked down to avoid Riddle's gaze and perched on the edge of his trunk, which was stood up on its wheels. The trunks wheels were wedged in the thick carpet so the trunk didn't move as Harry settled uneasily on it. Riddle only tapped his fingers on the work surface with irritation but the fingers paused as the sound of a car pulling up on the drive was heard through the house. "Ah, Mrs Dursley, it seems your family have returned – and ever so promptly too." Riddle hummed in jovial cruelty.

There was the sound of the lock being turned, the latch clicking loudly in the tense silence of the house.

When Dudley ran into the kitchen, excited and red in the face from his short run, he stopped short at the site of the tall and handsome Riddle leaning casually against Petunia's clean and shiny kitchen sink. The spread hands that gripped the work surface behind him clenched at the state Dudley was in before Riddle smiled disarmingly and saying with false warmness. "You must be Dudley."

Dudley looked at him blankly, a distinct lack of interest in his face and a look off ugly jealously on his slack, flabby features.

Riddle for once looked a little wrong footed at the boy's stoicism before he smiled easily again "Please," He gestured with his hand towards Petunia, "Join your mother at the table."

Dudley glared at Riddle and Harry could instantly see the beginnings of a tantrum in the set of Dudley's chin and the way his arms went to cross themselves, and the way his pudgy hands coiled into fists.

"Please, Dudley, come sit with me." Petunia asked, wetly and with a hint of tremor in her sharp voice. Dudley looked on the verge of doing what he always did – ignore her, but he seemed to register her wet, shiny eyes and the slight shake in her hands and the fact her tea, which was sitting in her lap, was untouched. He still scowled before stomping over and pulling out a chair, throwing himself on to it with little regards for the strain he must have been putting on it.

Vernon came in only seconds afterwards, carrying a few bags of surplus things that Dudley would never use. When he saw Riddle his reaction was one that was very different to his son's. He took in the expensive pressed suit that Riddle was wearing, the smile and the styled hair….and proceeded to smile at him, a smile that was greasier than Riddle's had ever been, partially fake (due to jealousy) and partially real (due to what Vernon thought he could get out of Riddle). Harry privately thought that although Riddle's was so obviously fake at times, he most definitely pulled the smile off with more style and was certainly more believable. "Oh, hello!" Vernon held out a large sweaty hand towards Riddle, who deftly ignored it, moving past the large man and waving his hand in a 'come hither' motion cheerily as he did so.

"Please, Mr Dursley." Riddle gestured to a chair next to the one at the head of the table, in which he sat himself.

Vernon looked flabbergasted, a ring of colour swelling in his neck, a red-purple puce, a shade almost vulgar in its unpleasantness. The man glared at Harry, who shifted on his perch on awkwardly, and steadfastly avoided Vernon's beady black eyes as they narrowed in suspicion on him.

"Mr Dursley?" Riddle called out, imperious and tone bordering on impatient, his fingers tapping out a muffled beat as they struck the covered table. Vernon set down the bags on the floor, leaning them against the wall.

Vernon glared at Harry, one last long hard look that promised retribution before he waddled over to his pre-chosen chair, taking of his coat and folding it over the back of it and pulling out the spindly wooden chair to sit on it.

When Vernon had settled himself in his chair he placed his hands on the table and clasping them together in a business like pose. From the angle Harry was sitting at he caught Riddle shoot Vernon with a bland smile.

Riddle pulled out Ginny's wand, lightly placing it on the table cloth and smiling indulgently "Just to set the standard." Dudley and Vernon reared back, as though Riddle had thrown at snake on the table, or as if they had been struck violently

"Now, I have been here for only twenty minutes at best and I've bore witness to the cruel way you treat Harry." Riddle started, but Vernon recovered quickly enough to snarl out.

"The little _freak_ deserves it!" He hissed, spittle flying from wet lips as he glared at Riddle. "Freaks like you deserve it too!"

Riddle turned to him slowly, with anger burning in his eyes, expressed in the clenching of his jaw before he said coldly. "It is not acceptable, Dursley." He turned away from Vernon, his fingers doing that odd tapping beat again, he paused for a moment to collect his thoughts. "Though, you pride yourselves on being too much of a _normal_ family to beat the little freak, so I suppose that is your saving grace amongst all the terrible neglect." It was said nonchalantly, as though Riddle hadn't just slighted the Dursley's honour and integrity.

"How dare you?!" Vernon seethed, and even Petunia had a look of such disgust on her horse like face as she clutched her throat in horror. "We would never beat a child – even that little _freak!_ No how much that little brat deserved it! We would never lower ourselves to physically beating him! We aren't that sort of people!"

Petunia nodded sharply, anger pointed and fierce in her face. Dudley still had the fearful look on his face, slightly mourning looking as his parents reacted furiously to the allegation that they could have even _thought_ about beating a child – freak or not.

Riddle focused on their angry faces, looking a little tickled by their anger.

Seizing opportunity at Riddle being distracted, Dudley's pudgy fingers snatched the wand that was resting on the table and ran towards the door, which closed on its own and stopped the fat boy leaving.

Riddle hadn't moved from where he was sitting or looking, the blank stare and bland smile fixed at the china cabinet opposite him.

Dudley rattled the door in panic, but it wouldn't budge, as though it wasn't only shut but glued as well.

Riddle spun out of his chair with elegant ease and slowly approached Dudley with impressive swagger. Although Dudley was tall for his age, Riddle had presence as well and when that was couple by those extra inches of height, it made Riddle tower over the poor muggle.

Dudley, who was a shade of grey that Harry had never seen before, rather stupidly Harry thought, pointed the wand at Riddle's midriff with a trembling hand.

"Don't be a silly boy, give me my wand and we'll forget all about it." Riddle said soft and coaxingly, holding out his right hand. Harry, immediately tensed, noticing that Riddle had his right hand held out meaning his dominant left hand was free to do damage.

Petunia was almost sobbing "Please Diddykins! Do as he says and nothing bad shall happen. Please, darling!" Dudley, although shaking like a leaf, shook his head fiercely, his several chins wobbling along as he did so.

Riddle let out and all suffering sigh, rolling his eyes dramatically as his left hand rose and backhanded Dudley across the face.

Petunia shrieked with fear and Vernon rose from his seat, blood red in the face and filled with anger. However, the backhand had had the desired effect and the hand in which Dudley had held the wand slackened allowing the wand to swing from his fingers towards the floor.

Riddle caught it lightly, his two fingers holding the wand like someone holding something up dirty – like a used sock. None the less, he grit his teeth and gripped the wand tightly and pointed it at Dudley. "Sit back down – like a good boy." He hissed.

Dudley scattered back to his seat and Riddle slipped the wand into his trouser pocket before heading into the kitchen. There was the unmistakeable sound of a knife being drawn causing all of them to tense.

Riddle strolled back out from the kitchen, a knife in each hand swinging with _swishing_ sounds as he approached Dudley with a fascinated, hooked look in his eyes.

Dudley made a squealing sound in his throat as he pressed himself back against his chair but he didn't get out of it, nor try to run away.

"Both arms out on the table, _now._" Riddle commanded, knifes in each hand gleaming with the sunlight pouring on them. "Oh, don't look so afraid, I'm not going to do anything permanent. Certainly no worse than anything you've experienced before."

Dudley looked at his parents for support, at Petunia shaking her head at Riddle, muttered pleads and begging noises for him not to hurt her precious son. Vernon had stilled completely, holding his breath as he watched. He seemed unable to do anything in his deliberating, fearful shock.

With shaking hands, Dudley slowly stretched his arms out and placed his two arms on the table, his baggy sleeves billowing and spreading out like dark pools of blood on the snowy white lace table cloth.

Riddle smiled in that charming way, full of praise for the dumb dog before he brought the two knifes down with hurtling force and when the struck the wood, they vibrated audibly with the force.

Harry peered through the gap in his fingers and almost gasped in relief when he saw that Riddle had pinned Dudley's shirt sleeves to the table to restrict the movements of his arms.

Petunia had fainted and was sprawled in an undignified lump across the table.

Vernon's rising colour had soon come back down to a pasty white colour after the display and he stared in a type of shock at the embedded knifes whilst Riddle straightened out his suit and smoothed down creases in the legs before settling himself back in his chair. "Now, where were we before I was so rudely interrupted?" He looked over to Harry with only clam inquisitiveness on his face, as though he had no comprehension of the magnitude of what he had just done. "Harry? Do you remember?"

Harry felt oddly parched and he managed a soft "Uh-um, ahhh-"

"Oh, yes! I remember." Riddle interrupted, holding up a finger and turning back to the silent Dursley family. "You haven't beaten the little freak! That was it! However, that subject is rather dull, don't you think? We need to discuss your plans for when Harry and I leave."

Harry stilled, his legs locking in fear and tenseness as he waited for Riddle's verdict. He hadn't expected Riddle to turn to him, false questioning look on his face. "Tell me Harry, what are the arrangements regarding you and any wizard confidants?"

Harry blinked in incomprehension, shaking his head cautiously, "There are none. Ron and Hermione don't write…not after what happened with Ginny…and….there is no one else." He felt the heat surge under his cheeks in embarrassment. It got worse as Dudley seemingly forgot his lesson and snorted in contempt and horrid amusement.

Riddle turned back to Dudley, eyebrow raised in silent question, Dudley balked at the boy's face, leaning back slightly with a noise of fear as Riddle traced his index finger over the knifes handle.

"That's better, isn't it Muggle?" Riddle asked, gently with glittering dead eyes. His eyes flicked to Petunia and Vernon, "It turns out there are no measures that need to be taken. If someone asks, Harry is still here _happy as Larry_ as I believe they say." Riddle stood up and walked behind his chair, pushing it in and settling his hands on the back chair. "You're not to mention this visit – or me to anyone. I will be most displeased if my presence is mentioned. Needless to say, I shall take this displeasure out on your son if I have to." Riddle leaned over the chair. "Am I clear?" He asked.

All two of the muggles (Petunia still out cold), wide bug eyed nodded and watched Riddle fearfully, even as the boy turned away murmuring "Come along, Harry."

Harry jumped up and picked up Hedwig's cage, snatching the handle of his trunk and following Riddle as quickly as he could, not looking back at his supposed and unwanted family.

As he went through the front door, Riddle disappeared, Harry looked about, not seeing where the boy went until an arm wrapped loosely around his throat from behind. "I don't suppose you've ever had the pleasure of experiencing apparation, have you Harry?" Was the whisper in his ear before he was suddenly squeezed through a tight tube.

**~For Victory~**

Harry staggered as air rushed back into his lungs and his feet landed on uneven grass. Riddle let go of him as Harry took great gulps of air and swallowed several times to keep his churning stomach from revolting. _There wasn't anything in there to throw up anyway._

When Harry finally felt he wasn't going to throw up anymore, Harry looked up at the house the had apparated in front of.

Harry gaped.

It was horrid, decrepit and surely they couldn't live in that place?!

A flutter of wings drew Harry's attention and he saw Riddle fling Hedwig from her cage.

"No! Hedwig! What are you doing?!" Harry yelled, "Riddle?!" Harry ran towards the boy just as Hedwig fluttered away, curses raining after her until Harry grabbed Riddle's wand arm and tried to pull it away from his precious bird.

"Uh-uh Harry!" Riddle goaded, prying Harry's hand of his forearm and twisting around to push Harry towards the house. With a flick on his wand the front door shuddered open.

"In! Harry! Move it!" Riddle hissed with insistent hands pushing at Harry's back so he staggered through the decrepit doorway. It was covered in green moss and oddly bowed as though the wood was going to collapse.

His heavy falling feet made dull sounds on the floor making Harry think that the wood was not only damp but sodden.

The smell in the air made Harry almost choke on his tongue.

"Lovely, isn't it?" Riddle commented, drolly but with such an edge of cruelty that Harry didn't think anyone else could manage it. Riddle dragged in Harry's trunk in with Hedwig's empty cage balancing on top. He dropped them to the floor with an almighty crash.

Riddle slammed the door shut with his foot in a violent kick, the door smashed into the door frame with a wet heavy thud.

Riddle's hand was heavy as it settled on the back of Harry's neck, he steered Harry towards a green, mould covered window.

Taking a corner of Harry's exceedingly large shirt between Riddle's thumb and forefinger, he scraped away the mould from the window in a circular motion. Once the thin window pane was clear enough, though smears of green were still on it, Riddle dropped the corner of the shirt as though it had burned him. His hand smoothed over the back of the Harry's head and he gently but firmly pushed Harry closer and closer to the window until Harry's nose was pressed almost flat against the gritty feeling glass.

"See that house on the hill, Harry?" Riddle asked, his fingers tightening in his excitement, the bony tips hurting Harry's scalp.

Harry made a humming noise in agreement – unable to nod and unwilling to gather the remnants of mould on his nose or on his mouth.

He felt Riddle move closer, the teen's lips brushing the shell of Harry's ear. "That's where Voldemort lives, Harry."

Harry's hands instantly went out to the damp wall, attempting to push away from the window least he be seen by someone.

"Ah-ah! Harry! Calm yourself – we shall be perfectly safe here." Riddle whispered, no assurance in his words at all. "Trust me. The arrogant beast never looks beneath its own belly for his enemies." His hand ran down Harry's neck and his fingers brushed over Harry's fluttering pulse. Riddle turned his face into Harry's head, his nose being buried in his hair "Know this fear, Harry Potter." Harry looked out the corner of his eye, meeting the cold pools of emotionless brown. "You'll have to live with this for a long time, Harry. Get used to the feel of it, understand it and overcome it."

With that Riddle smiled and let go of his hold on Harry, "We'll be staying here for a few weeks." He walked back to the door and fiddled with the rusty lock until it shuddered and scrapped across the door into place. "We will use this valuable time to gather information on our enemy." Riddle gestured with his hand towards the filth ridden table and the chairs with rotten, uneven spindly legs.

Harry moved away from the window hurriedly but hesitated to sit on the horrid chair.

Riddle pulled out a wand that Harry recognised as Ginny's and changed his own chair, making the wood rich, glossy and most importantly – safe.

Riddle sat down, smoothing his transfigured robes (_when had he done that? Harry hadn't seen a thing_) with regal hands before he gestured again at Harry to sit again, a hint of impatience shown through his slight frown. Harry looked at his rotten chair pointedly and then back at the teenager.

Riddle caught the obvious look and his face suddenly lit up in amusement, his lips pursing a little as he smiled in a cruel way and he leant forward a little. "Ask me for it, Harry. Beg for it." He eyed the displeased pull of Harry's lips with humour before he added. "If that's too much for your pride, then by all means, _sit down._"

Harry looked at the chair critically, the green tinges to parts of the blackened wood, and the splinters falling of its legs – legs too weak to hold his admittedly light bodyweight. He turned back to the teenager before focussing on the boy's chin, to avoid the smug look that he would wear and how those freaky eyes would shine with glee at the prospect. "Please, Riddle, will you change my chair?"

"Hm," Riddle scoffed, "You will have to work on your tone, later though, as I have a present for you right now." None-the-less, he waved his acquired wand at the chair opposite him, turning it into a slightly more stable and less rotten chair. "Sit, sit." Riddle commanded, with an excited tremor almost running through his body.

Harry sat down cautiously, avoiding putting his hands on the table which looked alive with rot and insects.

Riddle smiled and turned slightly on his chair, reaching for a stack of newspapers, mostly covered in a cloth. "I've been collecting these for you for some time. I know you do not receive any news over the summer, and that is not fair, no, not in the slightest." His fingers gathered the loose papers securely and he twisted the pile in his arms before dumping them in the middle of the table for Harry's perusal. "Consider this your…welcoming gift." Riddle smirked, hollow eyes reflecting the light from the candle on the table. "I'll leave you to enjoy it." He said softly, before he got up and brushed the imaginary dirt of his robes. He patted Harry on the head gently as he moved into the back room – shutting the door softly behind him.

Harry looked at the pile in trepidation, whatever Riddle had got excited about these was surely not good. Harry took a deep breath and reached out a shaky hand to the pile, resting the tips of his fingers on the smooth black fabric for a moment before scrunching his face up and biting the bullet – so to speak. His fingers grasped the cloth and he pulled it off with force and speed, unintentionally sending the cloth fluttering over his shoulder onto the floor.

He picked up the paper at the top of the pile, the most recent by the feel of the paper and lack or creasing and dampness.

Pulling it closer and looking at the headline dominating the front page Harry's breath caught and stopped for a timeless moment at what he was reading.

_ALBUS DUMBLEDORE DEAD!_

For that moment, that second where Harry's mind had short-circuited and didn't allow him to feel anything about what he had read, all he could think was _damn that bastard, Riddle!_

He felt winded and desolate and so with shaky hands he held the paper up closer and read the article, word for word before he felt emotion – better to digest the information before he was overcome with emotion.

"Amazing, isn't it?" Riddle whispered from the back room, where he had opened the door and was leaning against the damp wall.

Harry dropped the paper onto the table and didn't say anything.

"Come see your room – I'm afraid will have to share, but you may have to share with less pleasant people in the future. Consider this another lesson."

Harry pushed up away from the table and went to see the room. _Oh God!_ It was terrible. Blackened walls and floor, mould growing in large patches with rotten fingers spread across the wall. The mattresses looked disgusting, no beds just the thing mattresses on the floor.

"Please tell me you're going to change that. They must be riddled with bugs and dirt." Harry begged, tone pleading but he didn't care – he couldn't sleep on one of those.

He heard Riddle laugh loudly and felt the boy's excited movements when the boy put a shaking hand on his shoulder. Harry shut his eyes despairingly – _Christ above, what had he done?_

**~For Victory~**

Harry soon found that Riddle was also prone to temper tantrums and rants, but Riddle was like a sponge, even when he was ranting he was learning and planning – Harry wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing.

"Ah, the arrogance of mankind, all animals mate and fuck, only humans are presumptuous enough to label their shagging as making love." Riddle moaned, as he shut the book he was reading and tossed it in the fire. "Why must some authors romanticise history?! Honestly Harry?! Why?! What a world we are living in, hmm?"

Harry looked up from prodding his dinner miserably and frowned in confusion at Riddle.

Riddle just waved his hand dismissively and picked up his fork. "Never mind, but take this as a friendly warning." He leant forward, pointing at Harry significantly with a diced carrot on his fork. "If you want clean cut history, do not read any of those books." He then pointed at a pile of books on the end of the table. "I wish to read history, not the torrid love affair between two insignificant people who have no bearing on the events in history. I suppose that it is some feeble attempt to sell history better." Riddle scowled at Harry's lack of response. "I was told they were best sellers, I should have listened to my gut – true history is _boring,_ true history doesn't _sell! _I am telling you, Harry, sex sells – it wouldn't have in my day."

Harry might have found it funny if he wasn't so cautious about setting of Riddle's temper. Riddle however had paused, mid-chew, his face considering before he continued to chew and swallow before he speak. "Sex sells doesn't it?" He asked himself, picking up his glass of water and his eyes focused on Harry. "Might be useful to know later on, Harry."

_Why didn't they see Riddle for what he was?_ Harry asked himself spitefully as he seethed on the sofa.

Riddle had taken Harry out and down into the village to get some food and Riddle had charmed the girl in the shop. He had bestowed a dazzling grin upon the girl and chatted to her about all the inane things in the world, luring her closer and closer with that angelic face that promised all the goods in the world.

How was it that only Harry could see the dead eyes, the false charm, the smarmy sliding facial mask that never seemed to completely fit.

_Even the old women – the girl's grandmother- was charmed by Riddle's act, praising his looks, his voice and was exceedingly close to pinching Riddle's cheeks at the joy of having such a charming, young man in her shop._

"Surely at her age she would know better, be wiser." Harry muttered under his breath.

'Ah, Harry, didn't you know that the older you become, the more childish you are?' Riddle looked up from his book, which was resting on his knees, with a small bemused smile. "They do not notice because they are dumb. They aren't like you and with you I never have to pretend. Be glad, you're one of the few who I don't pretend with." Harry very much doubted that but Riddle seemed keen to get back on the topic of age.

"Look at the beloved Dumbledore – he feels he is entitled because he is old, he has earned his right to whatever he desires." Riddle sneered as he ran his finger down the crease of the aged tome. He hummed a little under his breath and gathered his thoughts before turning back to Harry. "Be glad you aren't old, Harry." He whispered softly. "Age makes us worse people. Makes us tired and angry. Dumb." He muttered, looking resentfully at the fireplace. "I feel old at times." He looked down at the page in silence as though struck by the truth of what he had said, he continued again quietly. "Never being allowed to die makes us prone to temper tantrums and making crass decisions." Suddenly he slammed his book shut, eyes bright and wide, and he tossed the book on Harry as he darted towards the window and tilted his head at odd angles to see through the caked on grime and shading his eyes with his hand as he concentrated on the outside.

"Riddle?" Harry asked, his tone a little meek, Riddle could be scary when he got a 'bee in his bonnet' so to speak. He himself was liable to throw temper tantrums in this state, with spittle flying and glaring dead eyes, ruffled hair and hellfire in that beautiful face.

Riddle's voice was little muffled as his face was so close to the glass and he said "My dear older counterpart is rather old, rather quick at making crass decisions, wouldn't you say?" Riddle turned to face Harry, a slight grin on his face. "Stupid enough to trust Lucius Malfoy with things in the Government, wouldn't you say?" He strode towards Harry and plucked the book out of his hands. "Age makes us stupid Harry and set in our ways. Be glad we are young, Harry." He fingers squirmed around the book, clenching and letting go in his fever, "We are going to win this war, Harry, we will, we will." He smiled, his eyes darting around the squalid surroundings, blinding the grimness away with his dazzling smile and white teeth. "This world is for the taking, especially when only old men linger around, bony fingers clutching onto life feebly, we'll turn them to ash, Harry, oh _yes!_ Harry! We'll win this war!"

Riddle went into the back room and shut the door behind him after that, not another word coming past his lips. Harry hadn't a clue what he was on about.

**~For Victory~**

"I might remove your sight for a few hours, Harry." Riddle whispered in the pitch black room, with only a plume of moonlight focused on the opposite wall, illuminating the rusty door handle on the door through the holey curtain that was hanging from the rotten curtain pole.

Harry considered pretending he was asleep but he knew that even though Riddle was on the other side of the dark room that he could tell Harry wasn't.

"Why?" He whispered hoarsely instead, his voice cracking in exhaustion and wariness.

There was the sound of Riddle shifting in his bed, his bare feet slapping the floor as he sat up. "Because I can." Was the response the boy gave, simple and smooth and Harry heard the weak mattress shift as Riddle got up. "You might one day lose your sight, Harry. Lord knows it's poor enough as it is but one day you might be in a fight, hit with a spell and-" Suddenly the moonlight disappeared as Riddle threw a sheet over the window, the white moon being cut out of the room. "-the lights will go out. You'll need to be able to cope, Harry." Riddle hummed, "The original curtains are terrible aren't they?" He didn't seem interested in Harry's answer – nor did he want one. "I hope you don't mind me blocking the moonlight, Harry, but I have become used to the pitch black between the pages of a diary. I cannot sleep with any sort of light now."

Harry swallowed, it sounded loud in the silence which in itself was ringing. _How could he respond to that?_

"I would take your eyes too, Harry." Riddle continued, changing subject as quickly, as he was wont to do. "However, I am only young myself and have not had the chance to pursue that vein of knowledge." There was dry, amused huff from the blackness, "I'm afraid you'd be eyeless forever."

"Are you going to do it for all my senses?" Harry asked, with no little fear and he let it show – though he had come to the conclusion that Riddle did not understand or recognise fear when he saw or heard it, but Riddle did seem to acknowledge that Harry didn't like something by the tone of his voice.

Riddle hummed, "No, I don't think I shall." He paused before continuing. "That is not Voldemort's style. His focus is the exploitation of your senses – he will make you feel so much that you'll think that the world is ending and you're in hell. Be it pain or pleasure, Voldemort will destroy you with sensation."

Harry said nothing, but turned to face in the direction that Riddle was, a sudden feeling that he should never ever turn his back on Riddle – something he has always known and felt but suddenly this was all that little more real. Like the film had stopped running and Harry realised _this is really happening, this is my life._

"Are you going to do what he would?" Harry asked, half into his flat pillow, his eyes half closed and his breathing a little shallow.

Riddle laughed "Maybe one day – maybe you'll be ready one day, Harry, but not yet. I don't wish to break and kill you. Well, not yet anyway."

"Comforting." Harry muttered under his breath as he pulled the blanket up to his chin, hiding his scrawny arms under the covers.

Riddle said nothing but Harry got the impression that he was smiling. He could imagine Riddle's lips pulling upwards and he heard Riddle murmur, "Goodnight, Harry."

Harry paused with hesitation, "…Night." He whispered, letting his eyes shut but his shoulders did not relax in the slightest, not one bit.

**~For Victory~**

Harry's leg was on fire, thorny vines of pain embedded into the flesh of his left calf and they flared with agony.

He thought the bone was actually shattered and the fragments of bone were being twisted in his muscles. Harry hissed through clenched teeth as the pain spiked and his hands hovered over the limb, unwilling to touch it but wanting to do something to stop the sickening pain.

Riddle closed his book suddenly, freezing in his spot and tilting his head towards the door. His dead eyes widened. "Hide Harry! Under the sofa and _do not move!_" Riddle hissed, folding his hands calmly on the table and becoming motionless.

Harry looked around in panic before shuffling towards the sofa, his broken leg dragging behind him beyond painfully.

Harry had only just got under the chair, pulling his limp leg by the trouser, when the front door burst open. Harry's scar began to prickle warningly and Harry could hear the dragging of robes on the dirty floor. The mysterious figure moved across the floor and knelt on the floor, near the floorboard that radiated dark magic. Two pale, long hands came to rest on the floor, the thin fingers pulling up the rotten wood. Harry pressed closer to the floor, peering slightly to see who it was.

Harry's throat closed at he saw Voldemort's snake like face bend down to peer into the black space from which he had removed the wooden covering. His scar simmered on his forehead and Harry watched as Voldemort smiled at whatever he had hidden under the floor, and he placed the board back and added some additional spells.

Suddenly Voledmort's head reared up, distracted from its previous concentration, and Voldemort inhaled loudly, the thin flaps that were his nostrils widening. Voldemort's pupils expanded, red pooling black as the pupil rapidly dilated and the man's mouth opened as he drew more air in. He seemingly tasted the air and he bent down, looking at the disturbed floorboard and inhaling curiously.

Harry watched with fear curdling his spine, goose bumps all over his arms and neck.

Voldemort's eyes shut as he continued to smell around the board, before his head snapped to the side, blood red eyes opened and focussed on Harry under the sofa. Harry let out a loud gasp but Voldemort didn't react in the slightest, he peered a little closer but showed no reaction that suggested he knew Harry was there.

His brow creased as he sat up, smoothing his hands over the board one final time before getting up smoothly and leaving, the swaying of his robe scraping the rough boards and the door shutting softly signalling his departure.

Harry held his breath until he heard Riddle get up excitedly and crouch down by the sofa, looking at Harry in the darkness with a cheery grin. "Isn't it fantastic, Harry?" He gushed in a happy whisper, "He is older and more arrogant and stupid that I could have ever imagined!"

"Why-" Harry croaked and coughed at the inhalation of dust "Why didn't he notice us?" He managed to squeak out through his rough and parched throat. "He was looking right at me!"

"Ah!" Riddle scoffed, smile unaffected, "This little…_shack_ is saturated with his magic – and therefore mine. I played a little with it whilst we've been staying here – if we stay still, we simply blend in to the surroundings. So, when darling old me came in to check on his little-" A sly glance was directed at the mysterious floor board. "-investment, he didn't notice us. Good for you especially – he might kill you on the spot, that is of course, unless he didn't want to paste your guts all over the floor before he ended your miserable existence." Riddle's hands darted into the blackness and snatched at Harry's shirt, pulling him out into the light. "Feel free to thank me at any point and marvel at my _fantastic _and _amazing_ spellwork."

Harry, though immediately impressed (_who wouldn't be?!_)felt a former spark of irritation and anger, which was quickly aggravated by the jostling of his broken leg. "I'll be a damn sight more impressed Riddle, when you've fixed the bloody leg you've broken! _My leg!_"

Riddle looked enthralled by Harry's fiery tone as he continued to drag Harry out. "Ah, but Harry, this is a lesson – one you are failing to grasp entirely."

"I can barely deal with the pain – I feel sick!" Harry hissed as he emerged into the shadowy light.

"I would be surprised if you weren't feeling sick, Harry." Riddle's hands hooked themselves under Harry's armpits. "It was a rather cruel thing for me to do, but, and there is always a but, I only did it because it is a lesson you must learn." Riddle started to lift Harry with barely any strain in his voice as he spoke. Harry's right leg managed to get a semblance of balance when he realised that Riddle was still lifting him.

"R-Riddle?" He asked nervously as his toes began to graze the floor. "What are you doing?!"

"Teaching you a lesson, Harry." Riddle replied, "You have good instincts and decent control over your magic. However, you need to learn to use it intensively and with sharp control. You haven't managed that today, have you?" Riddle's grip shifted and his tone was decisive. Before Harry could begin to panic Riddle had loosened his hands allowing Harry to drop to the floor.

Instinctively, Harry tensed and braced himself for the pain on his leg hitting the floor; eyes clenched shut as he fell. However, when his feet struck the floor there was only the heavy _thud_ of his bodyweight hitting the floor and the slight numbness in his legs as they shook a little with the force that they hit the floor.

Harry opened his eyes in shock and looked down at his two whole legs, straight and unbroken resting on the floor.

"See?" Riddle asked. "You need to learn to use your magic to heal your bones instantly – without my interference."

Harry wiggled his toes and grinned in amazing.

"Now again." Riddle commanded, with a lash of his wand causing several loud cracks and blistering pain as Harry's leg was once again shattered. Harry fell to the floor with a groan and glared up at Riddle through tears of pain.

"Here is a hint for you, Harry. Remember the feeling before I dropped you. Remember it and _use_ it."

**~For Victory~**

Riddle taught Harry chess, he told Harry that it would teach him strategy – but most importantly patience. It was during one of these games that Riddle decided to breach into Harry's childhood.

"Tell me Harry, did you ever long for your muggles' affection?" He moved his rook casually, shifting in his chair slightly and regally placing his hands upon the arms. "Especially when you were a child?"

Harry glared at the black and white board, the little black and white pieces unmoving and waiting…like Riddle himself. He unclenched his hands from the seat of his chair, where he had been holding it so tightly that he wondered if his fingers had indented the weak wood. With a hand that had stark white finger tips and angry blood filled fingers Harry reached towards the chessboard.

He paused; however, when he saw Riddle's fingers drum an impatient beat, only once, across the arm of the chair, the horrid gaudy ring he had taken to wearing on his finger catching the light and the well-trimmed, tidy nails hitting the wood in succession.

Riddle had emptied the cavity under the floor the moment Voldemort was absconded back in his lair, he had found the ring dispelled the curses on it and had taken to wearing the ring at all times. He had replaced the floorboard and spells – creating the illusion that all was well and nothing had changed. Harry didn't know why he wore it – perhaps he saw some claim to it or perhaps it was his version of mocking Voldemort although the man would never see Riddle with it – or at least most likely wouldn't.

"Didn't you? When you were a child?" Harry asked, softly and quietly with his head down, lengthening hair covering his eyes from view. He heard Riddle chuckle, deeply with a hint of pleasure.

"Taking my advice, Harry?" Harry looked up through the gaps in his hair, above his glasses making Riddle blur into a domineering black wraith with almost white skin, flashing teeth and dark beetle eyes. The creature smiled even more, white spreading across its face with a line of deep pink framing it. "Deflecting questions so obviously will not work in the real world, Harry." Riddle said, black, white and pink flashing as he spoke. "However, I will give you a boon for your attempt." Riddle concurred, as Harry pushed his glasses up his nose with one finger and Riddle slipped into defined focus – his face hadn't even moved, a mask set in stone, if Harry hadn't heard the pretence of emotion in his voice, he would have never had thought Riddle might have even tried to mean something.

"I never wanted help or advice from my caretakers. Most definitely, I never wanted affection from them, I never understood it." Riddle leaned forward, his face coming closer to the chessboard as he spoke fervently. "I would see it all and I would mimic it. Most women love a little face scrunched up with tears. Especially in my day, made women feel useful and if they were willing? Well Harry, you answer me, who was I to say no?" His brown eyes looked up with endearing qualities from the Queen which he had focused on. "When the emotional world is your oyster, Harry, you'd be a fool not to. It was so easy to twist them and see them get emotionally tied up in obligations they could not fulfil – and I thought to myself, I am _blessed by the Lord himself_ to be spared this torture and I have been given this gift to make my way through the world, through the masses and become a _GOD_ myself!" He grinned that hollow grin, and for once as Harry looked at Riddle eye to eye, locked in that powerful gaze with him, he could see the glee and the happiness _radiate_ from Riddle as he continued in a hushed, sensual whisper. "I will part the masses like the Red Sea." Through the last movement of his lips as he spoke, he pouted blowing out a powerful stream of air, shaking the chess pieces and causing them to move away from him, parting down the middle and falling over, rolling, rolling and dropping of the board to the floor with loud, deafening clatters. _By God, he's mad!_ Harry thought, the desire to leave never being stronger…but he had chosen this path, he had to stick to it.

Harry's shoulders hitched with every chess piece falling to the floor, his head trying to sink into his torso and his hands clasped together, tightly with fear, he was rigid and he daren't move as Riddle's gaze remained on the chessboard with the glowing embers of passion and belief.

One last chess piece rolled into Harry's lap, a pawn, and it sat next to his clasped hands, resting on his joined legs. Harry looked at it, feeling oddly empathic with the carved piece of wood in that split second until he was jarred out of it with the sound of loud laughter and cheers from outside. Riddle sat up quickly, inquisitively, and pulled back the curtain a little. "Ooh, something is happening outside, how exciting." Riddle commented with a tone that was light and airy. "I do wonder what is going on."

…And the moment was broken and Harry felt himself able to breathe again, his body juddering with fear and a bit of shock as he took giant silent gulps of air as discreetly as he could whilst Riddle's head was behind the curtain.

**~For Victory~**

They had been at the little shack for four and a half weeks when Riddle decided to do something risky and rather Gryffindor.

Riddle ran outside, swinging the door open with force and striding out, waving his arms about his head as Lucius Malfoy strode down the path from the old Riddle house. The blonde man narrowed his eyes at the boy, who wasn't a muggle as he could see him behind the extensive wards. He drew his wand subtlety and continued in the same pace towards the boy. The boy put his hand on the moss riddled wall in front of the decrepit shack he was staying in. Riddle enjoyed watching the man's mouth cringe as he took in the state of the place. Riddle didn't want him too close and so he shouted out, loudly and boldly "How's the Dark Lord, Malfoy?" He laughed a little, obscenely, and he saw the man pause mid-stride in shock before he brought his wand into full view and sent a curse at Riddle.

Riddle laughed again, his faux casual demeanour disappearing and he ran into the house quickly and slammed the door shut behind him, leaning against it in breathless excitement. "Harry!" He called out, with a quiver "Gather your meagre things! _Quickly!_ We are leaving now!"

Harry looked at him in confusion but moved to his truck and put back in the few things he had taken out in the mouldy hell hole.

Only when he was packed did he breach the question to Riddle. "Why are we leaving?"

Riddle rolled his eyes "Because we've been discovered, Stupid!" He made a sharp gesture to Harry's trunk with his wand, shrinking it, "Put it in a secure pocket." Just then a loud clatter shook the house and Riddle grinned, peering out the window "Ah-ha, Harry! Our little Lucius had brought some friends to try and bring us out." He chuckled grimly, "Whether we are alive or not does not seem to be of any importance to them, not it the slightest." He placed his books in his bag, calmly and patiently, before he shrunk it and placed it in his pocket. "Come over here, Harry, I have a portkey."

As he said it, there was a large groan from the ceiling, and a giant crack ran from the beam into the middle of the ceiling. Riddle frowned "Ah, seems our beloved little home is falling down, Harry." He put his hand on Harry's shoulder and moved him away from the crack, under the smooth ceiling. "Hum, bit of a problem there." He glanced around before brightening and saying "Under the sofa, Harry. I know the floor is deplorable and disgusting but under you go."

Harry begrudgingly crawled under the sofa, and a second later Riddle slid in after him, almost on top of him so neither of them was exposed and unprotected by the sofa.

"Don't you see, Harry?" Riddle asked, breath disturbing Harry's hair at their close proximity. "The Dark Lord will not be pleased with today's actions. Lucius knows this house belongs to the Dark Lord – but obviously not the reasons why." Riddle's head turned as glass shattered and the death eater's voices became louder. He continued on, "He will have destroyed this house, which used to hold something very important to him – excluding myself and of course you." He shifted his weight a little. "When Lucius brings this house down upon our heads – or at least he thinks he will, he shall report it to the Dark Lord, who shall promptly kill him…maybe torture him a little first…maybe his family. _What a lovely surprise that will be._ You see not only has he let a mysterious boy go, who knows the Dark Lord's location, he has lost something prized by the Dark Lord and he has lost me, and when dear old Lucius describes me, the Dark Lord shall realise I am alive. Lucius was entrusted to my care for many years and he threw me away and aren't 'I' going to be mad?!" Riddle's chuckle blew hot air all over Harry's face, making him blink. "That is three losses by Lucius in one day. Also there is you, seeing as you disappeared at the end of the school year and since then have never been seen – events that the Dark Lord will realise are Lucius's fault." Riddle smiled. "Dear old Me, will kill off his weak link and create an even bigger one for us to exploit – the Government – no longer kept in check by dear old Lucius. I've been reading the papers – the ones you neglect and I know that at this precise moment in time everything in the government hinges on Lucius's influence – everything they are trying to instigate will fall around them with Lucius's death. My dear elder self, however, shall think of none of that in his fit pique…and-" Riddle snapped his fingers, a loud sharp click ringing out clearly despite the house falling down around them "-just like that the world is ours… No one will be able to step up to the mantel with the same efficiency as him, the Government will fall." Riddle sighed with delight. "I am brilliant aren't I, Harry?"

Harry had to concede that it was pretty good, but he refused to nod or blink or acknowledge that fact.

He felt the wards shake and the house withered a little at the battering. Harry looked up at Riddle crushing him to the floor, chest to chest, nose to nose and those dead eyes flashing with something excited and deranged. With each rattle, those dead pupils expanded and the grin widened. Harry was panicking, his breathing ragged as he struggled under Riddle.

Only a few seconds until the portkey whisked them away to safety.

The roof groaned again under the onslaught and Harry's limbs trembled, on the verge of hysteria and he could feel a scream of fear building in his throat, squirming up his gullet. Until Riddle's left hand, with that evil ring on it, came up to his neck and pushed down on it, choking the sound. With a voice full of vile gentleness, Riddle ran the back of his hand down Harry's cheek, the cold stone in his ring burning into Harry's flesh with its deathly chill. "Shh Harry, shhh!" Riddle whispered, pressing his finger against Harry's closed mouth.

"Can you hear them, Harry?" He continued a smiled appearing on his face in the dim light. There were yells and the distinct sound of the beams groaning under the spells. Harry nodded against the finger and Riddle chuckled under his breath, the smell of mint still lingering on it. "Not them Harry, silly boy. Your heart knows it." That hand was pressed against his chest, his heart underneath the layers of flesh, muscle and bone pounding away to a fast beat. Riddle leant closer again, "The drums of war." Riddle's fingers struck his chest along with his heartbeat, _bah-bum bah-bum bah-bum bahbum bahbum bahbumbahdumbahdumbahbum_, and it was ringing in his ears, and those godforsaken eyes glowing in the darkness at him. Riddle pressed his face up against Harry's, the eyes filled with unholy light unblinking and he felt Riddles lips whisper onto his own "War's coming, Harry." Just before he felt the tell-tale tug behind his navel of the portkey activating and whisking them away.

**A/N – Please review for me?!**

**I'm going off to uni VERY soon, so please, please, pretty please give me some reviews to feel good when I go? I got 2A*BC in my A-levels (even though I only revised the night before the exams - _not_ a smart thing to do!), so I'm feeling good about myself – I'm off to uni to become a **_**real**_** scientist :D**

**I hope my Riddle isn't **_**too**_** crazy for people to not enjoy but let me know :)**

**As I said, please review before I go off to uni :P Thank you :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer – I do no own Harry Potter.**

**IMPORTANT A/N – Believe it or not I am actually alive and well, university tried to kill me this year and it nearly succeeded, however it did kill my muse for a while. So first of all my sincere apologies to all that have waited since September for this, if you are still here – thank you so much, I do not deserve it.**

**Right, this chapter is LONG, so please excuse mistakes that will undoubtedly be found, but this is a one man show so I will miss things and also you have all been waiting long enough for this chapter without me spending days and days looking through it to catch all the mistakes (impossible.)**

**Last point, this chapter is dark and there are mentions of child prostitution, it is not explicit and I have no intentions of going down that kind of route but it is mentioned, just so you know. Also this story is dark, this is a war after all, so please remember that so if that is not your cup of tea, then please do not complain about it to me, you have been given fair warning.**

**For those of you who like that kinda stuff – enjoy!**

**For Victory **

With a heavy clatter, Harry fell to the ground after the portkey spat him out. He groaned as he hit the floor already feeling the damp crawling into his skin through his shirt and cooling his bones. _Great. Another painful journey_.

Riddle had somehow landed on his feet and was busy lighting candles with elegant flicks of his wand as he walked around the room.

"We are in the old French Quartet, Harry." Riddle began, as he opened the thick curtains with flourish, letting the sun flood the room, highlighting the slight damp and mould in the corners. "During the civil war in France, the wizarding stock fled from the muggles and came here for a few years. Of course, once everything was done and dusted they all slowly trickled back but these buildings still remain." He turned to Harry, smiling dazzlingly, "We are staying here for the foreseeable future. Now isn't that fun?"

Harry sat up slowly, wincing at the pain in his back and glared at Riddle incredulously before managing a raspy (and rather ballsy) "Oh yeah, lots of fun!"

Riddle looked more amused than ever, before he began to stride around the room, his feet thumping heavily as he searched the small space. "It's not luxury, but it is better than the 'family' estate as it were." He clapped his hands together once, and Harry gathered that was a sign of the bastard's approval. He glared at Riddle as he pushed himself off the floor, wincing at the fierce ache in his back and the feel of the slightly wet splintering wood under his bare hands.

"Why," He began as he wiped his dirty hands on his trousers, "are all the places we stay in damp?" He hissed as he pulled out a long splinter from his palm and flicked it onto the floor. The pacing feet stopped and Harry could see between his fingers the polished and well maintained shoes turn towards him.

He glanced up to see Riddle looking at him curiously, before he hummed as though seeing something new and interesting for the first time. "We cannot afford anything nicer." He finally said, "Anyway, _He_ will never think to look for us here." Riddle turned back towards the window, massaging his temples slowly, "He is rather stupid in thinking that everyone thinks like _him_. Of course, he also thinks they are weak and insipid with their love and their families but he still believes that they have his…well our sense of grandeur." Riddle smiled over his shoulder briefly at Harry, "He will be expecting us somewhere nice, not living among the cockroaches, even though he believes we belong with them."

Riddle ran his fingers down the glass windowpane, causing them to squeak loudly in the otherwise silent room.

Harry felt rather awkward and looked around at the two unmade beds that were parallel to one another, his fingers clenching in his pockets and he shifted nervously. "Do you…Do you think your plan worked?" He finally asked, looking up to see Riddle already looking at him, he started slightly, his eyebrows rising in alarm.

Riddle made a huffing sound before looking out the window again, "Yes, I imagine it did." He walked over to Harry and held out his hand. Harry looked at him blankly.

"Unless you want your trunk and all its items to be the size of your palm forever, I suggest you give it to me."

"Oh!" Harry gasped, and pulled out the small trunk, the size of a beetle and gave it to Riddle to carefully placed it on the floor before waving Ginny's wand and returning it to its original size. Without much preamble the boy opened it, rummaging through and pulling out one of Dudley's most horrible second hand shirts. Riddle sneered at the checker pattern before turning to Harry, "You're bedding is going to be horrible." He snickered, turning the shirt over in his hands carefully; he suddenly looked up, "Unless you wish to keep it?" He asked, holding it out towards him but Harry shook his head, stepping back a little and Riddle smiled, turning around and throwing it on one of the beds. "Ah, whilst I remember!" He said, snatching a crumbled plain black robe from the trunk and tossing it to Harry, who just about caught the billowing fabric. "Put that on, Harry." Riddle murmured distractedly as he patted down his pockets, until his face lit up and he pulled out a few sickles absent minded, counting them out before he pulled out a crumpled list. Riddle read it over and Harry watched as he fastened the cloak around his neck. "Right, we need these items," Riddle pushed the list into Harry's hand and scattered the change on top of it. He then made a point of folding Harry's fingers securely around the money and list. He pulled up Harry's hood and bent down, brown meeting green and he whispered softly, "Do not take this hood of for _anything_ or _anyone._ Do you understand Harry?"

Harry nodded, Riddle's brown eyes glinting menacingly in that pale, aristocratic face.

Riddle nodded decisively, standing and turning Harry by grasping his shoulders, he then placed his left hand on the back of Harry's head and pushed him towards the door. Harry opened his mouth to ask for directions but just as he did Riddle spoke quickly and quietly, "Okay Harry, you go down the stairs immediately on your right. Once you reach the bottom of them, the door into the main street is on your right, but you _will_ turn left and go out the back at the end of the corridor." Riddle put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a small key, he drummed the key on his leg, "Are we clear so far?"

Harry nodded, "Right, down the stairs, then left to the back door."

"Good, then once you are outside; you go straight down the road in front of you, yes?" Riddle leant against the wall, looking down at Harry, who nodded with more determination than he felt.

"Then you take the third left, the _third_ left Harry, and then you take the second right. This will take you into an alley and on your immediate right there is an archway, go through that and you will come into a big market square." Riddle pushed off from the wall and put his hand on the door handle, "Repeat that to me Harry." He pushed the key into the door, and glared at the wood as Harry repeated his instructions perfectly. He nodded turning the lock and looking down at Harry again, "Everything will be dirt cheap there, so you will have plenty of money. Make sure you do not buy anything rotten there."

Harry was just about the ask, rather crossly, who the hell sold bad food when Riddle opened the door and shoved him into the narrow corridor.

"Consider this a lesson in haggling, Harry, the more change you bring back the less work I'll assign you." He smiled and went to close the door before his eyes widened in fake shock and he rolled his eyes at his own 'forgetfulness', "Oh, you must remember, keep your hood up at ALL times, if you are spotted you will be killed, so consider this another lesson in stealth….and surviving." He winked at Harry before shutting the door loudly in Harry's face.

Harry stood there for a moment, looking at the dark door and hearing the lock click shut. He sighed, glancing down the narrow corridor and then up at the solitary flickering bulb hanging from a wire. Harry frowned at that, wires and light bulbs in a wizard ghetto?

Suddenly he heard another door's lock being jiggered about as someone tried to open their door and Harry wondered no more, turning to the steep staircase and hurrying down it without trying to fall.

When he reached the bottom, his feet fell into piles of leaves and rotting newspapers, he glanced right at the open front door, which swung in the gentle breeze, leafs billowing in and out covering the threadbare doormat.

He went left, towards the backdoor, and tried to open it, but it remained stuck, the hinges not wanting to give until Harry managed to finally pry it away from the door frame. It groaned loudly in the silence, the hinges whining at their sudden use, and Harry quickly slipped through, letting go of the heavy door with relief.

Harry took a deep breath in order to relax himself and adjusted his hood resolutely. He began to march across the busy road, into the crowd; he looked behind himself nervously and noticed a tall figure in black, mostly a silhouette, nod at him and Harry quickly looked forward again, tucking his arms close together to avoid being jostled by the crowd. He figured that it was Riddle, but how could he be sure, he ducked his head, allowing the hood to fall over his features more and casting them into shadow.

He was knocked about in the busy crowd but he finally managed to fight his way through the people, the snarling hags and the diseased creatures.

Upon finally reaching the market, Harry was struck by the stench of the homeless lingering around the entrance to the market place, the smell of piss was heavy in the air and BO clogged Harry's nostrils. They reached out towards him, trying to snatch his robes and beg for money.

"Please! Please! Sir, I have five children to feed! Please!" A young woman called out, her mouth covered in seeping sores and her dress barely covering her chest. She clutched at her own black skirts, littered with white stains and ripped at the hem. She wailed as Harry backed away, frightened and finally managed to get into the market square, bypassing a blind woman who sat in silence. Harry looked at her, struck at how quiet and unresponsive to the world she was, whilst the rest begged and pleaded, screaming at him, she just sat there on her torn blanket. He shuddered, she freaked him out.

Harry walked around the market, glancing at his list and trying to find the food that Riddle wanted. He got to understand why Riddle specified 'rotten', half the food would not have been legally allowed to be sold in Diagon Alley, or possibly Knockturn Alley at that, but Harry managed to find edible enough food and paid a reasonable price for it all, many of the women on the stalls unable to resist a plaintive child, trying to count out the very few coins that he had. Though to be fair, several women were as cold as ice and unmovable as rock. Harry noticed there were very few men lingering around, which struck him as odd, and he began to wonder where they all were, there had been plenty on the street as he walked here…though mostly around the pubs.

He bought an extra piece of bread, unable to forget the blind women and watched how the seller wrapped the bread in old newspaper, his own face blinking back at him from the front page, under the headline _BOY WHO LIVED – MISSING?!_ He gulped, and kept his head down, thanking the women profusely.

"No trouble, take care of yourself, love!" The woman patted his hand gently as she handed over his shopping and then turned to a heavily robed young woman with thick black hair "'Ello Lizzie, what you doing out on your own? Not a save place anymore, you seen those Death Eater's lingering around? Back luck to them!" She spat, and Harry, discreetly eavesdropping, hurried away when hearing about the Death Eaters.

As he passed he handed the bread to the beggar woman, and she clasped at his small hand with her aged wrinkled ones. Her blind eyes focused on him with startling accuracy, "Thank you, so, so much." She whispered as she clutched the package to her chest, like she had been given a priceless treasure.

Unfortunately, a sudden gust of wind torn through the tight alleyways and blew Harry's hood up, allowing the limited light to illuminate his features.

"Hey! You!" A man called out, pointing at Harry, "I know you!" There was a blinding flash from a wizarding camera and Harry startled, jerking his hand free from the woman's grip as he staggered backwards a few step and started to run.

He tore through the archway, clutching his purchases and bustling past people before turning a corner and slipping seamlessly into the crowd of black cloaked people all bustling around trying to do their business.

The shadows seemed long and cold in the streets as the buildings were tall and crooked, the upper floors above the shops leaning in close together. In fact, Harry glanced up quickly and saw a couple of women leaning out the windows talking to one another. He quickly looked down again, least someone see his features.

When he saw the back door of the building he came out of he hurried towards it, using all his strength in his right arm to pull open the sticky and stiff door whilst juggling his shopping in his left, attempting to cradle it all without crushing it. He managed to open it a bit, enough so his skinny frame could slip into the building.

He stopped in fear when he saw someone by the front door, his breath caught and unconsciously, his arms clamped around his food and himself, but the man was just rummaging through his mail, a cigarette hanging from his lips, a smirk curdling around his mouth. He rubbed his stubble in contemplation, before he plucked the cigarette from his mouth, tapping the ash onto the floor, crushing the slightly smoking cinders, before it caught the leafs and newspaper pages, with his heel. He tucked the letters into his cloak before putting the cigarette back in his mouth and walking out the front door, all by some miracle not noticing Harry, who was stood there like a startled rabbit, frozen to the bones.

He went to move forward, keen to get back to safety when he cloak was yanked back and he let out a startled yelp turning to face his attacker, only to find that his cloak was caught in the door, which had stopped it slamming and the man hearing him enter. Harry sighed explosively and quickly pushed the door open a little more, letting his trapped cloak loose and then letting the door slam loudly behind him, making him jump a little but he only glanced back once before going up the tight spiral staircase.

Harry ran raggedly, sweat sticky and cooling, running down his neck in sickly waves as he knocked at the door to his room, it swung open silently, and Harry darted inside and slammed the door shut behind him. He leant against it, cool damp sinking into his soaking wet shirt covered back. He heaved in great gulps of air, into his throat that felt constricted….he would not cry, never mind the burn and the ache and _God awful_ fear and sorrow that plagued him. _He would not cry!_

He felt empty and hollow; a pulling pain in his chest causing him to gasp for air that he never seemed to have enough off. His face crumpled as he tried to hold it in, the contours of his face pulling into unflattering creases.

"Oh come now, the market cannot have been _that_ bad." Riddle hummed from where he was sitting in a chair by the window looking out at the milling crowds disinterestedly. Riddle tilted his head back in the air, inhaling and rolling his head, "My Lord, Harry, the smell of fear is ripe on you!" He chuckled, "Put those things down on the bedside table and go have a shower, why don't you?" He continued and Harry could hear the smile in his voice. He scowled and still breathing heavily he put down the items as carefully as he could before staggering of towards the little bathroom in exhausted silence.

The water was tepid and the soap cheap but it felt good to wash away the feel of the damp from the Gaunt house, the dirt from the streets and the BO and piss smell that Harry felt clung to him from the market. The towels were scratchy but at least they were clean and Harry sighed blissfully when he put on the clothes Riddle had conveniently already put in the bathroom for him.

When he came out of the bathroom, Riddle had unwrapped all the goods, flattening out the papers and placing them in a pile to read later. He had also set out some cups and was evidently making some tea. He smiled, his eyes sharp as Harry threw the wet towel on the newly made beds, all Dudley's cast offs transfigured into bed linen. "Come, sit with me Harry." Riddle said, "How much money did you bring back?" He asked as Harry settled into the seat, surprised at the moderate padding it had. Harry reached over to his discarded cloak and brought out two sickles and three knuts. Riddle looked at the proffered change and nodded, his lips pursing in an amused and slightly impressed pout of sorts. "Keep it," He hummed, "As reward, buy some …sweets or whatever you _kids_ buy these days." He then laughed at his own private little joke, whilst Harry just frowned concernedly as he pocketed the change.

"Shall I play Mother?" Riddle asked as he picked up the teapot, steam lazily swirling upwards from its spout. He poured the almost black liquid into two teacups with a distracted air, handing Harry's his on a saucer as he added milk and sugar to his own, humming slightly under his breath.

Harry echoed the gestures, but left his tea on the table, waiting for it to cool, but apparently Riddle had a tin gullet as he took a large sip of his tea straight away.

"I was always amused by the likes of Malfoy and his cronies." Riddle began, as he stirred his tea languidly again. "At eleven years old, they all spoke of their grand plans and how they were going to be the best." Riddle laughed lowly, eyes half-lidded in tiredness, "How I laughed at them on the inside. Eleven year olds using words far beyond their own comprehension but Mummy and Daddy had said them and they wanted to be just like them."

Harry watched as Riddle continued to stir repetitively, "Ah, Harry, you should have seen them, they sounded so _stupid_." Riddle tapped his spoon on the side of his teacup. He picked the cup up, cradling it in his hands. "No one took them seriously of course. After all, they were only eleven with dreams of grandeur." Riddle took a long slow sip, closing his eyes in bliss as he did so, "No one laughed at my plans because I kept them all locked up in my mind. I wasn't stupid like the others. Adults want children to be children, not children acting as precocious adults." He took another sip, swallowing audibly in the silence. "I gave them the eager, willing to learn child and they lapped it up like thirsty dogs." Riddle opened his relaxed eyes and turned to look at Harry with all of the cold deadness he possessed. "No one laughed at me, Harry, but _oh,_ how I laughed at _them_."

Harry swallowed, smiling weakly and picked up his tea to distract himself, Riddle smiled indulgently and picked up and heavy book, and held it out to Harry.

He took it and looked back at Riddle, who just smiled, "Seeing as you did so well today Harry, you only have to read the introduction and the first chapter." He glanced out the window, "The sun will probably set in about two hours, give or take a few minutes." Harry looked out to the overcast sky and wondered how Riddle knew that from the grey clouds but didn't ask, instead he set down his tea and cracked open the book whilst Riddle picked up the crinkled newspapers. Harry looked up from his book, watching the moving pictures of the proposed reformation of government and how Lucius Malfoy's imperious smug face glared at him from the page…and he couldn't help but think of the fact he was probably dead by now.

**~For Victory~**

Harry shifted in his uncomfortable bed, wincing internally at how loud the springs creaked in the silence. He tried to move his head into a cooler spot on his pillow when he felt his bed shift, silently, as though someone had sat at the bottom of it. Harry looked up in alarm, but could see nothing in the pitch black room. His breath seemed unnecessarily loud and Harry tried to stifle it a little. He began to move his feet slowly, feeling around for the person at the end of the bed. "Riddle?" He whispered in question, no more than a shaky breath.

There was no answer from the person, Harry knew it had to be Riddle, there was no possible way for anyone else to have snuck in but Harry's irrational fear made him think of all the possibilities and they were _terrifying!_

"Riddle!" Harry said again, voice a high pitched squeak in the blackness, "This isn't funny! Stop it!"

Still there was nothing, not even a slight shift in weight and Harry couldn't find his figure with his feet. Just as he was about to sit up a cool hand was placed on his forehead, pushing him back into the pillows. "Shh Harry." Riddle whispered, his hand smoothing back Harry's growing hair, and running his fingers through the tangled mess.

Harry tensed with fear as Riddle's short nails scrapped at his scalp gently, and nearly snatched the hand back when it removed itself, after all if he knew where the hand was then he had an idea where Riddle was too.

There was nothing for a moment and Harry pulled the covers up closer to him as though they might be able to protect him. He nearly screamed in terror when the weight changed and Riddle landed right behind him on the bed like a fallen tree. The scream that Harry had so desperately wanted to release was swallowed into a high pitched squeal that rattled in his throat as he tried to rid himself of it.

He felt Riddle chuckle, the hairs on the back of his neck disturbed by the warm breath of the teenager behind him. The same hand that had touched his hair a moment ago sneaked around Harry and settled on his stomach.

"Riddle…?" Harry whispered, shaking and feeling sick to his stomach. "What are you doing?" He found his breath catching as Riddle splayed his hand, his fingers tracing his ribs as he did so.

The boy laughed again, an almost caressing sound and Harry nearly threw up on the spot.

"Harry, Harry, Harry," Riddle's nose brushed the base of Harry's neck causing Harry to wildly buck in his captor's hold out of fear. Suddenly the hand that had only been resting against Harry's sunken stomach turned into an arm of steal and with strength Harry hadn't imagined the teenager had physically drew Harry until his back was pressed against Riddle's torso. "Ahh," The young dark lord whispered, moving his head so his lips could whisper directly into Harry's upturned ear. "You ruined the game, Harry. We could have had some _fun_ before we got down to business." Riddle's breath made Harry's skin erupt in goose-bumps and Harry felt his fear increase tenfold, his heart pounding at Riddle's words. He didn't move a single inch though, even held his breath until Riddle's next words. "I know what you did."

Harry then scrambled, trying to elbow Riddle and free himself, although Riddle seemed to have been expecting it as the fight for freedom was short lived. Harry yelled and bit at Riddle's restraining hands, clawing at them with his own smaller, weaker fingers. That failing, he tried to roll, using all his body weight to his advantage but Riddle's grip was so strong that it only shuffled them along the bed. Riddle laughed infuriatingly, before securing his hold on Harry and turning his body until he was on his back with Harry pinned on top of him; Harry's back to his chest. His arms caged the young boy, one snug around his stomach and the other crushing around his throat.

Harry choked loudly, his hands still clawing away, but the compression to his throat was making the already black world spin and his breath rasp. He could feel his eyes rolling backwards and his body dying under Riddle's left arm, his wand arm, strongest arm and Harry finally stopped trying and went limp. Instantly, the pressure decreased, the arm loosening enough that Harry could draw breath slightly – but it was enough.

"You know, Harry, you have possibly ruined this _whole_ mission by doing what you did today?!" Riddle hissed angrily from somewhere beneath him, his voice seemed to be everywhere when it was dark – high pitched and serpentine in his anger and all Harry could imagine was Riddle's nose melting away and his hair falling out in great big chunks, him turning paler and paler, becoming taller and taller until he was Voldemort. Harry made a gasping noise of fear due to his inability to say words.

"You know, Harry, if _He_ finds out where we are, he will strike and kill us?!" Riddle continued, perverse enjoyment in his voice as the boy wriggled in fear "He isn't a Slytherin anymore, Harry, he is not willing to wait, plot and plan." Harry felt Riddle lean closer, "He has lived that life and now he has it all – the power, the fear…_everything._ He doesn't need to sneak anymore, he'll be a Gryffindor." Riddle's arms tightened once again, brutally constricting like a snake. "He won't just kill us, Harry, he will kill anyone and everyone he comes across." Riddle huffed, "How many people's death warrants have you signed today, Harry? How much blood will you have on your hands?"

Harry croaked, in denial, it wasn't true – he had to believe it wasn't true. "It was only a little food!" He gasped out from his crushed windpipe. "She needed it!"

No sooner had Harry said those words had Riddle rolled Harry over to his front, pressing his face and body into the mattress and continually pinning it there with his own body, their legs entangling with the bed sheets.

"It was a bloody beggar woman!" Riddle spat into Harry's hair as he pressed closer and his anger warped his mouth into a horrific sneer. "She is a lowly creature who deserves nothing more than death!"

Harry struggled weakly, managing to turn his head to the side as Riddle allowed him to and took in heaving breaths. Even though Harry was terrified he found himself whispering. "She didn't deserve death – she is innocent." He took in a few more breaths to steady his nerve. "I don't care what you think! I think she is just as important as any wizard!"

After saying it, Harry's heart beat doubled, increased tenfold even, in his fear, he wouldn't retract it but he almost wished he hadn't said it. He felt Riddle shift and move off him a little, a huff of amusement coming from him before he said.

"Your opinion is your own to have and mine to punish, Harry." Then the cool tip of a wand ran down Harry's neck, circling his pounced spine. "And I am going to punish you, Harry, oh so much; I will make you regret this." The wand dug in a little, "Kindness has no place in war! You spare one life and it could cost you hundreds!" The tip of the wand started to heat a little in Riddle's anger. "Or worse your own!" The teenager, suddenly stood, removing his wand from Harry's flesh but no doubt keeping it trained on him. "Although, I find anticipation is always worse than the actual punishment." The floorboards creaked as the teenager walked over them, "Well, it may seem like that at the beginning, Harry, but trust me when I am done with you, you will wish you had handed yourself over to _Him_ personally!"

Harry lay perfectly still for a second, silence descending over the room and Harry could hear Riddle's lips smacking together as he tried to collect his anger in. However, before the boy could continue, the miniscule amount of light seeping in from under the curtain suddenly changed to the brightest orange, illuminating the room. Harry shot a fearful and confused glance over at Riddle, who had paused eyes wide in horror. Riddle staggered over to the window, ripping the flimsy curtain off the rail in his haste and let the world of orange heat flood the room as the opposite building was consumed in flames.

"We're under attack." Riddle muttered, not in disbelieve… but almost disappointment for how predictable Voldemort was being.

The old wooden building groaned as the fire bit and tore at it, shuddering as it was destroyed. Harry could see the building caving in on itself from where he was lying. He sat up and watched as the black smoke billowed into the night sky and he listened as people began to scream in fear and pain as the fire brought the building to the ground.

It was shortly after that the explosions began.

Riddle spun on his heel, looking demented and alive before he strode forward and flung the covers off the bed and pulling Harry up. Harry winced as his bare feet hit the floor. "Get dressed! And quickly! These buildings are mostly wood; they'll go up in flames in minutes if the fire even touches them."

Riddle flung things into the trunks and bags with a manic air before shrinking them and hiding them on his person as Harry quickly tugged on his shoes. No sooner was the last shoe on, did Riddle's vice like hand grab Harry and pull him to his feet. Riddle strode to the window, looking at the streaks of fire raining down from the sky.

"Move!" Riddle hissed, backing away from the window, with large galloping steps with his long legs. He spun around, facing Harry, his hair whipping around his face and wild eyes, the fire behind him making him look some wild barbarian. He snarled and grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him roughly across the room, pushing Harry's glasses on his face and marched him over to the window with that brutal grip on his arm and pressed Harry's face to the burning glass, compressing his cheek into the searing heat. "Look what you've done, Harry!" Riddle hissed, grinding Harry's head further and further until the glass creaked and groaned under the pressure. "Look how many people you've killed!" Riddle's hand was suddenly removed as he ran further into the room, snatching up the last of their belongings quickly and throwing them into a small bag.

Harry gratefully removed his skin from the boiling window, leaving a burnt layer of flesh clinging to the glass. Harry's fingers hesitated near his face, the skin of his left cheek burning like acid, he wanted to soothe it so much but he daren't let his fingers touch it.

"Christ's sake, Potter!" Riddle yelled, running back towards him and grasping him by the neck, "Move! This building will soon follow its fellows." Riddle rammed the door open and pushed Harry out into the busy corridor, people calmly but hurriedly grabbing belongings and leaving the building. His pause was short and brief, cut short at Riddle's insistent pushing and snarling. Harry gripped the banister with fear as Riddle nearly pushed him down the narrow and steep stairs and he tried not to trip over his own feet as he hurried down.

As they passed the window by the narrow staircase, glass fragments shattered as a spell crashed into it. Harry _shrieked_ in surprise and hastily covered his face with his arms as glass rained down on him. He heard Riddle yell out coarsely in pain. Harry started to turn back to look at Riddle, but once again Riddle's hands came down on him, pushing him, smearing blood on his skin.

"Move, you little brat!" He yelled, practically growling and snarling like a wild beast.

Harry carried on staggering down the crooked and damp stairs, his fingers hooking into the banister in panic. He tripped on the last few steps, his hands catching his fall as they pressed against the wall, the wallpaper bubbling from the heat of the flames. Harry could see the leafs that were stirring in the breeze were bringing it licks of fire, he gulped at the sight of orange that was curdling the leaves into blackened shells. There was an angry yell and his hair was snatched by Riddle and he was tugged backwards towards the door he had used not seven hours ago. Riddle blew the thing off its hinges and charged out of the building, pulling Harry along with him. The wooden splinters bounced and ricocheted off the ground and Harry shielded his eyes, finally running and keeping pace with Riddle, whose merciless grip had slackened on his hair, but his grabbed Harry's bony wrist and tugged him along.

The screams were deafening and people ran, pushing others out of the way as they threw off burning clothes and chunks of seared flesh.

A mother with an angry burn down her cheek and collar bone huddled her children together, but was howling and calling out for another.

Riddle tugged Harry along, "Quick, we'll go into the stone and concrete part of the ghetto," He gave Harry another harsh tug "The stone may cook us to death but at least a building is less likely to fall on top of us."

Harry coughed on the smoke, his eyes streaming with burning tears as Riddle bustled through the panicking crowds, knocking men, women and children out of the way with a furious manor that Harry could only compare to Voldemort. Although there were similarities before, Harry could see how clear it was in that moment, the sneer so strong marring Riddle's face that Harry could believe that he was almost looking at Voldemort, if only it wasn't for the hair and nose.

Then a man on fire ran in the way and Riddle and Harry split as he ran through them, the smell of his burning flesh making Harry bend over and splatter the concrete with his vomit. He choked on the smoke and own sick, falling to his knees and trying to rid himself of the blockage. When he had finished retching he looked up from the floor to see that Riddle had disappeared, his sick flecked lips trembled as he realised he couldn't see Riddle anywhere.

"Riddle?!" Harry called out in fear and alarm, he ran forward, jumping over his own sick, and looked for him but the thick black smoke covered everything and Harry could barely see his own hands. He staggered around in the smoke; running into a wall and grazing his hands on the hot coarsely cut rock. He hissed at the pain and staggered around until he suddenly burst into a square, similar to the market square but smaller and tidier. The smoke was thinner, only small tendrils snaking their way around Harry's ankles and along the cobbles and around the many corpses littering it. However, it was who was in the square that turned Harry's blood to ice.

Voldemort.

The man turned around, a small smile on his lips and his blood red eyes flashing with a perverse joy.

Suddenly, as if from nowhere a gust of wind pushed Harry further into the square, black smoke billowing around the corners of the brickwork and with long spidery black fingers holding Harry's shoulders, it pushed him towards the still Voldemort.

When he was close enough, Voldemort's fingers snatched the corner of Harry's shirt, just the very corner with the tips of his fingers. Harry remained frozen on the spot, fear chilling his bones and he found that he couldn't move an inch; he was being restrained by two fingers and a pair of blood red eyes. The worst part was Voldemort didn't even look angry; he looked calm and conceited but nothing else.

"Let us wait here a moment, Harry, I think dear Tom shall be joining us soon." Voldemort whispered, oddly loud despite the roaring flames and the screams. The area they were in was clear of living people, only their corpses remained, blood soaking into the uneven cobbles and coarse clothing.

In the morning, the clothing would be gone, Harry knew, people weren't picky anymore, but most of the bodies would remain, forgotten and would probably rot under the cold winter sun until the vigilante legal system would come clear it up.

Harry wondered whether his body would be found with them or would Voldemort drag his body through the masses letting the pavement and the people rip into his skin. Harry tried to breathe through his rapidly closing throat, as Voldemort's hand casually ran up it, along his carotid artery and the fingers paid special attention to that. He heard a delighted hiss at the fast pace his heart galloped along to. Then Voldemort spoke in that cold voice, "Oh, do calm yourself, Harry." The spindly fingers pinched either side of his face, so Voldemort could inspect him better. "If I decide to kill you, I promise to make it painless – after all," One robed arm swung out, extravagantly showing of the bodies and the fire, "You made this all possible."

Harry shook his head, "N-No!" His feet moved backwards and Voldemort tightened his hold upon him.

"Oh, yes." Voldemort repeated in a saccharine voice. He opened his lipless mouth the say something else when Riddle staggered into the clearing, face covered in little cuts and black from soot.

"Ah, here he is!" Finally, the Dark Lord's merciless fingers let go of Harry's face, and turned to face Riddle, whose hand was full of black curls. Harry staggered backwards and hit the barrels that were behind the pub. He snuck behind it silently as he watched with wide eyes as the two Dark Lord's sized each other up.

Harry peeped over the top of the barrel and watched as Riddle heaved with a show of almighty strength and flung the black curls and the body attached to it at Voldemort's feet.

The flesh was wizened and burnt black, all that Harry could properly see was the black stubby teeth revealed by the pulled back crinkled lips and the black feet with the toenails falling off.

There was nothing said for a moment, only the screams and the roaring of the fires echoing in the night that made any sound. Then Voldemort screamed an incoherent sound of fury and….agony as he looked at the burnt corpse. Riddle tossed his head like proud horse, and walked further into the courtyard, "Poor Bella," He cooed at the seething Dark Lord, "She had such a shrill screaming voice." He commented, and Voldemort's head snapped up to him and for a moment there was only the sound of ragged breathing and then there was rippling heat as flames tore out of the long yew wand towards Riddle. The boy dove for the ground, scrapping his hands along the rough concrete, he snarled as he flung out his arm, Ginny's wand casting a large gust of icy wind that bit and tore at Harry's cheeks angrily. Voldemort rolled his eyes and moved the fire away with a sweep of his hand.

The fire spun around and around in into a fierce ball, tearing up tiles and the littered rubbish into an inferno, Harry dove out of the way, crouching as he ran to hide behind a bigger cluster of barrels.

The gale force winds made Harry clutch at his barrel with weak, cold and bloodless fingers as he tried to subtly watch the fight from safety. He thought of his wand hidden in his back pocket and looked at Voldemort, stood in the middles of the courtyard which dipped in the middle.

The fire was whipping at the corpses, their dry hair lighting as the fire licked at it.

The acrid smell of burning flesh filled the courtyard, great billowing clouds if black smoke blocking details from sight, all except Voldemort and Riddle who both stood upright in the inferno, snarling at one another.

Harry suddenly looked at his wet hand, briefly smelling it before he licked it. Pulling a disgusted face, he wiped his hand on his trousers to rid it of the fire-whiskey. He yelped as one of the shutters above him broke away from its large iron hinges, it already burning and spinning in the great sphere bouncing around and burning all it came across. Suddenly, an idea came to him, he looked back at the barrel – knowing that smugglers had started to hide their strong liquor in beer barrels to reduce the tax when moving it and he suddenly looked up at the flame that came too close. Little flames had started on the ground on little pieces of things that hadn't been picked up…and he was sitting next to several barrels of flammable liquid.

Harry straightened his legs a little in order to move before he had an idea. Fire whiskey was extremely flammable and with the amount of fire already around and the courtyard dipping at the middle…

Harry pushed at the first barrel, though it didn't budge, and Harry felt his spine twinge in pain at the force.

Luck seemed to be on his side as he noticed the barrel next to him had a stone wedge under it, as the cobbles were so uneven. That one would be easier to shift; he got behind it and braced his hands against it. He felt the wet wood splinter and stab into his palms. The barrels weight helped him as he unbalanced it and knocked it over, the gallons of liquid roaring out of the wooden casing like an angry tidal wave.

It splashed against the concrete and instantly the fire lit it, and the river of flaming alcohol went towards Voldemort who stood right in the middle of the courtyard. The heat made Harry stagger back and clasp at the wall, even though the brick was burning hot to touch. He could feel his skin blistering from the fire. He watched the liqueur run down the cobbled stones towards where Voldemort was still trying to direct the main concentration of fire away from him.

The fire danced and roared towards him at impossible speeds and then the man's robes caught aflame. The giant pillar of fire encased Voldemort and he _screamed_, a yowling sound of agony that carried through the air. The flames consumed the figure of the man until all Harry could see was fire pooling into the skies.

Then the fire died instantly, Voldemort's black robes smouldering and his pale snake face hideously burnt. He bared his oddly sharp teeth in a parody of a smile at Harry. "Very," He growled, "Very clever, Harry!"

Harry trembled a little, a heaviness in his bones, he was going to die today and he knew it. A scaly red hand lifted the bottom of Voldemorts robes, showing burnt and blackened feet standing on a drain, where Voldemort had sent the flaming liquid.

He pointed one burnt finger at Harry, the stringy flesh hanging off it in raw scraps "This is not over, Little Boy!" He snarled before he turned in black smoke and stole down one of the alleys, shattering all the windows as he went past and cracking all the brickwork.

Harry let out a wild gasp of air, as though suddenly he had been permitted to breathe and he sagged against one of the remaining barrels, almost hugging it as he felt his eyes close and a sob try and escape.

"Oh, yes, _well done, Harry!_ Now get the bloody hell over here and help me with this bloody cut!" Came the snide voice of Riddle from where he had his hand wrapped around his heavily bleeding arm.

Harry went over, his knees buckling and took Riddle's instructions to the letter, finding the Essence of dittany that Riddle had stashed and putting on the wound. Riddle said nothing, not even hissing as the wound stitched itself together. He glanced around at the destruction briefly before gesturing for Harry to follow him. "Do you reckon he'll be back?" Harry asked timidly.

Riddle snorted, "Of course, not today but he will be."

Riddle tucked them both into a hollowed out shelter in the concrete, wrapping his cloak over the both of them, so no part was visible. "We shall remain here tonight," He whispered as he shifted into a more comfortable position. "The fires are dying down and in the morning it should be safe to move again."

It was half way through their sleep that there was the twitching, a prodding of sneaky fingers.

"Do you know what I despise?" Riddle whispered into Harry's ear, his fingers swirling across Harry's arm in a lazy nonsense pattern. Harry didn't prompt him, knowing that Riddle was perfectly capable of answering his own questions, inclined to listen to his own voice more than anything else. "Thieves."

Silence hung in the air for a few moments and the prodding, inspecting fingers of the mysterious person became more and more insistent. Harry looked up from his clasped hands to where Riddle was sitting, a dark and brooding look on his face and Harry began to worry his lip with his teeth. Riddle never gave one word answers, unless something was about to happen and Harry feared he was going to be the recipient of Riddle's anger.

"Oh?" He asked cautiously.

Riddle smiled at him, sharp and shark like before he leapt up, spinning around and caught someone in his cloak. There was a yelp, and a brief scuffle before Riddle had his arm around the mystery person's torso and his other spidery hand clasping the poor bugger's throat

"Yes, thieves," Riddle continued as he squeezed the person's throat, "But do you know what I hate more?" Harry heard the person choking and shook his head worriedly, biting his lip, "Stupidity," Riddle snapped and then he shook his prisoner, "So when I come across a stupid thief…well can you imagine how I feel?" He laughed and Harry noticed that it sounded strained as if the future Dark Lord was stressed, "As much as I hate them, I respect a clever thief but _stupid_ ones? Oh, I cannot stand them!" He then tightened his arm around the person's throat, tighter and tighter and the person's struggles came more pronounced, more desperate and a gurgling sound emerged from the victim, hands smacked down on Riddle's vice like arm, but the teenager held it there until the struggles died along with the sound. Then there was the smell of fresh urine and excrement.

Harry gagged and put his head in his hands, listening as he heard the body thump to the ground. He felt tears burn but he didn't let them fall, he couldn't he knew that would be weakness in Riddle's eyes and even though he did not want to impress Riddle, he knew that he couldn't really afford to displease him.

"Get up, Harry." Riddle commanded, and he stuck his hands deep into his pockets, "We need to get some food in us, least we starve."

Harry looked up, wanted to snarl that he wasn't hungry. He wanted to tell Riddle exactly what he thought of him and spit on him, but instead he pushed himself to his feet with his bruised, blistered and cut hands and walked after him with his head down, deeply miserable and unwillingly to look at the casualty of Riddle's anger.

"Come now, Harry. He would have killed and then robbed us." Riddle said

"How do you know that?! You couldn't!" Harry protested, angrily as he stomped up to Riddle, trying to match his pace. "He could have been looking for _food!_"

"Hmm," Riddle laughed, "Food, yes, and we were it."

"Liar!" Harry snarled "You're just a …a MURDERER!" He yelled, a red flush in his cheeks. Riddle looked unimpressed but was stopped when they heard the sound of a scuffle. They both cautiously approached the sound and they found a drunk man trying to wrestle a woman to his side, a woman that Harry remembered as 'Lizzie' from the market.

"We have to help her!" He whispered to Riddle, starting forwards but evidently Riddle had other ideas.

Riddle clamped his hands on either side of Harry's head, his legs trapping Harry's between them as he forced Harry to watch the young woman being attacked.

"Honestly Harry, did you think war was only on the battlefield?" Riddle hissed sinuously in his ear, his voiced maddened in horrible excitement and perverse enjoyment.

The girl screamed once again as her back was slammed into the jagged brick again, her body being forced up the wall as her dress was pushed up past her knees.

"We have to help her!" Harr hissed, emotions rising like waves, panic wanting to swallow him, fear trying to throw him up and anger squeezing and burning his insides.

"You won't be able to stop it, Harry, may even cause a little trouble for yourself." Riddle whispered, tightening his hold, shifting his arm until he was almost hugging Harry to him.

Harry watched the girl, her black hair sticking to her forehead in panicked sweat and skin red from exertion, one hand scratching at her attackers face, pushing and clawing trying to get him away from her. Her other hand was fiddling with her clothing, Harry panicked thinking _what's she doing?!_ before suddenly like a whip, her hand lashed from her clothing with a black polished wand and caught her attacker in the face. A spray of blood caught her across the torso as she landed on her feet steadily and sure as her dress slide back down her legs gracefully. Her face contorted into a gleeful sneer before she cursed her attacker with a barely audible hissed "_Crucio!_" Although curse was nothing more than a harsh whisper on the breeze... her victim's screams were not. The howls of agony bounced of the alley walls and funnelled the noise up to the skies. A flock of birds startled from their hiding place at the loud noise.

Harry stopped his struggling in shock though Riddle's grip never shifted, even as the girl ended to curse and spliced open the man's throat with a non-verbal spell. Harry watched with eyes the size of saucers as the woman quickly emptied his pockets and took any valuable or useable clothing from the corpse before disappearing into the dark back allies with her stolen goods.

Riddle let Harry loose after she had gone but the boy remained where he was, almost wooden and stiff in shock. "W-Won't someone come? I mean – I mean wouldn't have someone have heard that?" Harry asked, hoarsely and tiredly.

Riddle shook his head with a hum, "No, they would have heard, but they will not come." Riddle put his hand on Harry's shoulder, feeling the tremor run through it – knowing that the temper tantrum and emotional breakdown was going to happen soon – he began to steer Harry out of the alley gently, pulling the hood of his cloak over his messy haired head. "We are in the backstreets of wizarding England, Harry. These are rough on your average day but during war? This is a place that the worst people live in but also those who are scared come here. It is a refuge for all that need it. However, people are used to cries and screams at all hours – no one will help you here." He pushed Harry around the next corner, "However, that was a detour, we are now hunting for a bug."

Their serach was mostly fruitless, the scattered and burnt streets empty and desolate and Harry slumped down on some steps.

Tom sat down next to him on the damp concrete, twisting his body so he was almost facing Harry, almost opposite. "Harry," He began softly, full of patience for the first time that Harry had ever heard. "I am not going to fake pity or sorrow for what has happened to you." Riddle looked with that unflinching focus at the side of Harry's head. "I.." He paused for an infinite moment before continuing with gravity he hadn't had before. "I respect you too much for that."

Harry looked up sharply, green eyes like shards of glass behind his lenses as he looked at Riddle in question but Riddle did not respond to the unspoken demand and instead continued. "I do not care that you have a terrible burden to bear and I feel nothing when you wake up covered in blood and screaming in terror expect …perhaps mild irritation…but know that… I wouldn't wish this on you." Riddle glanced down at the odious scar marring his right arm, the ragged tissue wrapped around his arm to his elbow. "I wouldn't wish fighting him upon anybody." He whispered softly, huskily under his breath as his fingers ran up his arm, tracing the mark Voldemort left on him, but Harry noted the way Riddle eyed the scar, in a hungry fashion that showed a dark lust more than anything. "Fate has dealt you a shit hand, Harry." Riddle smiled, ruggedly with hollow eyes that seemed more haunted than predatory in the evening light. It was the first time Harry had ever heard Riddle swear – after all, the boy was from a different era – he thought swearing uncouth. Riddle seemed to be thinking the same thing, a lopsided smirk beginning to pull at his lips. "Fuck knows who brought me here and whether I'll change the tide for you." He continued with amusement.

Harry scowled "What are you doing?!" He demanded suspiciously, glaring at the boy who looked full of remorse.

Riddle laughed again, "Just trying the semimetal lark," He sighed, resting his chin on his hand, "Rather boring, isn't it? How on earth do you all cope?!"

Harry sighed tiredly and dropped his head so his chin was on his chest and he focused on his shoes, battered and falling apart as they were.

A slight sigh and a tut before a cool hand came up and snatched at his chin, holding it firmly and a little cruelly – like the Riddle he was used to. "Harry," The teenager sighed in faux gentleness, but the intent behind the façade seemed genuine enough. "You are not a coward. You are _very_ brave. Only a brave boy would come down to fight me in the Chamber of Secrets. Only Harry Potter would stand with me against the most _powerful_ and _darkest_ wizard in the world." Riddle shook his head disappointedly, "I kept you alive for a reason, Potter- you had fire in you!" He continued in a dark hiss, eyes flaring with a fanatical life for a moment. "Where has that fire gone?!" Riddle pushed him away with liberal force. "Stand up to me, Potter! Don't be so bloody boring!" Harry clambered to his feet, unsure of the burning anger in his stomach and what it would lead him to do. Riddle looked enthralled, his long legs pushing him up to meet Harry halfway. "Come on Potter! Make me believe you can defeat Voldemort!"

Harry pulled out his wand, his fingers shifting their grip constantly, he couldn't think of a spell, not a single one but he wanted to hurt Riddle badly, make him shut that bloody mouth, the mouth full of lies and he wanted to get rid of those eyes, those brown balls of jelly with nothing in them.

Riddle was grinning at him, his eyes bright and glinting in the dim light, before he suddenly looked at something over Harry's shoulder.

Harry struck out, his wand slashing towards Riddle now his focus was off him but Riddle struck out his hand, knocking Harry's wand completely out of his sweaty fingers. Harry heard the wand clatter across the steps and dove after it, his finger snatching at the rolling wood desperately. He glowered up at Riddle from the ground, only to see Riddle still looking at something else. Harry followed the direction and saw the woman who had photographed him tottering towards a seedy looking pub.

When she had managed to stumble in, Harry looked up at Riddle, only to find the boy looking down at him, "Now, I generally approve of cheating, Harry, but still," He laughed, putting his foot over Harry's hand and wand to stop him moving. "That was just poor form." He pressed down with his foot, "I should punish you for that, you know?" More pressure was added to the foot and a deep chuckle escaped the young Dark Lord. "How will you stop me?"

Harry briefly considered punching the teenager in the balls and then running away into the black alleys of the wizarding world, but the way Riddle raised his eyebrows made Harry think again. The boy laughed, removing his foot, "This is such fun Harry, but if we do not hurry we may lose our bug."

Riddle sprang with his long legs and crossed the deserted roads quickly and Harry scrambled to follow him, massaging his hand to get some of the blood back into it.

Riddle swung open the door and hurried into the smoke filled environment, which was heavy with the smell of alcohol, vomit and must.

Upon seeing Rita, Riddle waved her over, winking suggestively at her. She puffed up her brittle curls with her hands and hurried over through the crowds of rowdy men and dour women towards them.

The woman wobbled over on uneven high heels, blonde stiff curls bouncing as she tottered over to Riddle with a greedy look in her eyes.

"I've been hearing a lot about you, Sunshine." She rasped, her masculine, thick hand reaching out to snatch Riddle's shirt. "I'm sure you've heard of me. Of course you have! Everyone knows about me – Rita Skeeter."

Riddle looked down at the grubby hand with distain before he hooked his fingers around her large wrist and forcibly removed her clenching fingers from his clothes. He let go of her wrist with a sharp movement as though touching her physically repulsed him. Riddle smoothed down the creases in fabric with irritation, a cross frown crossing his face.

"Yes Ma'am, I have heard of you." Riddle replied, his voice quiet with a little edge of huskiness in it. Harry immediately tensed under his large stolen cloak, his shoulders drawing in and up to make himself look smaller, he knew that tone – he knew it well, he had seen the consequences of that tone of voice on squashed rats and splattered remains of other poor creatures that had crossed Riddle's path. "You were the cause of hundreds of deaths in the slums, not even two days ago….All because you sold a picture of my _friend_ to the Ministry." Riddle looked up from his creased shirt to Rita's sallow and sunken face through his remarkably thick lashes. He paused for a moment, locked eye to eye with the woman as a flush started to crawl up her neck and pool as a flamboyant blush on her snowy taut cheeks. "Bravo." He finally said drolly. The ragged woman swallowed convulsively, her clawed hand creeping up to her own throat for a moment in a self-conscious gesture, before she abruptly adjusted her eccentric glasses with their missing rhinestones and slightly cracked lenses. She smiled at Riddle with her bright white, shark like teeth. "How about…" She spoke excitedly, her hands grasping her bag and ripping it open in fever, snatching up a quill and some crumpled parchment from the inside. ",you tell me _your_ side of the story." She looked up to his face eagerly, her hands trembling slightly. She suddenly caught sight of Harry, shrouded in the large black and slightly burned cloak. "You're your little friend's side too!" She leant forward, breathless and wide eyed, trying to look alluring but just exacerbating her starving and homeless look.

Harry waited for Riddle's answer, his joints locked in tension and starting to ache. Riddle smiled disarmingly before his hand caught her ruined fur collar gently. "Come closer," He whispered to her in a suggestive tone. "I'll whisper tomorrows headline in your ear. We don't want anyone else hearing it before it comes out now, do we?"

Foolish and desperate woman that she was, Skeeter leant closer. Riddle suddenly span her round with his grip on her collar and slammed her into the wall, crushing her hands against the damp plaster and pressing her face brutally against the wall. "Let's talk about what I hate, shall we?" Riddle asked, directly into her ear, through her sparse curls. "I _really_ hate bugs – I really hate _beetles_ most of all, Rita, I really do." Riddle worked his knee through her closed legs, parting her thighs as he pushed her further up and into the wall, pressing himself closer to her body threateningly. "I like to _crush_ beetles, Rita. I _love_ to pluck of their limbs and watch them flail around in agony." Riddle smiled into the flesh of her neck, making her feel his smile and his words and the clipping of his teeth as he talked. "Next time a beetle gets in my way…._oh_…Rita! Do you know what I am going to do to it?" He asked, and Harry had to strain to hear him.

Skeeter made a whimpering sound of fear as her head shook that no, she did not.

Riddle chuckled loudly into her skin "Best not do anything to find out then, had you Rita?" He asked, suddenly letting her go and crumple to the floor, her head pressed against the wall as she started to sob. "Please-Please-P-Please." She sobbed into the wet parchment that soggily fell between her clawed hands as the cupped her face.

Riddle said nothing, clearly deciding the woman didn't know what she was pleading for and that she was no longer any issue or cause of concern to him as he walked away without looking back. The only sign of acknowledgement was his sneer of disgust as his hand came down and pushed gently at Harry's back, pushing him towards the exit.

Once they were out on the street again, the smoke still heavy and thick in the air but Riddle seemed to know where he was going and meandered his way through it with ease.

"Come, Harry!" Riddle commanded, irritation making his tone exceptionally biting.

Harry rolled his eyes at the teenager, despising the come hither motion the boy made with his hand but obediently trotted over to him. "Where are we going?" He asked, as he adjusted his hood more firmly around his face, so the acrid stench of burnt flesh and rotting cadavers would not be blown directly into his face by the light breeze.

"To see a whore." Riddle said without preamble, his long fingers sliding into his trousers pockets with nonchalance that Harry envied. Harry nodded, once with features completely bland and uncomprehending before he suddenly looked startled, sharpness returning to his tired eyes. "Wait-" He reached for Riddle's bare arm but reconsidered rather quickly, and pulled his hand back into the folds of his cloak, "Riddle? A whore?" He could feel heat beginning to grow in his cheeks and he cursed his immaturity, becoming more embarrassed by his embarrassment. He ducked his head, hiding in the folds of his coat once again as Riddle's head slightly in his direction, the twitching in his cheek revealing his amusement in the situation.

He turned away again and began to speak as they walked through a cobbled courtyard full of animal shit and chickens running about the place. "Not for anything so sordid as _that_, Harry." He laughed, "I would not need to pay for that, if I were so inclined to _indulge_ in that pastime. Anyway, I'm sure the pair of you shall get on swimmingly, she is about your age."

Harry whose face was a shade of red that only Uncle Vernon had reached before suddenly blanched at hearing Riddle's last statement.

"B-but….I'm only thirteen!" He protested, trying to keep up with Riddle's long legged strides and almost bumping into him when the boy stopped so quickly it was as though his legs had ceased to work.

Riddle pivoted around on his heels, slowly and calmly, his face the picture of the young adult knowing what the younger sibling didn't. There was no sound in the deserted courtyard apart from the sounds of the scrambling chickens and distant angered shouts. He looked at Harry for a few minutes, just looked at him, dwarfed by the man sized cloak he was wearing, eyes too large in a pale and sunken face and he smiled at him like the devil, offering him a bowl of porridge for his soul.

Harry gulped, swallowing the mouthful of saliva that suddenly pooled his mouth in nervousness. Riddle's voice was as gentle as he could make it, the voice that Harry had heard charm the birds out of the tress and the voice that had greased any piece of information from someone's originally unwillingly lips. "Harry, this is war." He leant closer to impress upon his point, "There is no money, there is no food…people are dying." He smirked callously, "Women fall back onto the first profession like" Riddle held up those long, cruel fingers and snapped them loudly in Harry's face, causing Harry to dart back in shock and surprise, his green eyes quickly met Riddle's again, "that." Riddle pushed the hood off Harry's face, allowing the scruffy and long hair to catch the light for a moment. "In these times, Harry, child whoring is not uncommon…if there is money to be made then it will happen….and if they are desperate enough, the women will resign themselves to it…it's just the way of the world, Harry. The way of human beings." Riddle seemed to enjoy his lecture perversely as he leant in a little closer, his dead eyes darting around the courtyard and its broken windows with a twisted and joyful suspicion. "It always goes to pots and pans when _it_ first happens, then it's the women…occasionally children, if you're into that kind of thing, and then once all the women are defiled and dead….then it's the children….then it's each other until there is only madmen and their animalistic brethren left." Harry's eyebrows rose, incredulous that one boy could think of so much hate and cruelty. Riddle caught his expression and its meaning. "Oh, of course, there are a few stragglers that cling onto their humanity with weak fingers, but they always fall…either to their baser nature and their primitive instincts…or they are killed by those who have already let go."

Riddle stood abruptly and turned back to his original direction. "Come one, Harry, pull your hood up unless you want people to recognise you?!"

Harry huffed, affronted, as he pulled up the hood, hiding his face. He trotted along behind Riddle with a sullen look on his face, desperately ignoring what the boy had previously said because he had to hold onto something good and pure. "Hurry Harry! We'll need to catch her between clients….Oh, if you pardon the pun, I assure you that wasn't intended."

**A/N – If you're all still with me, I really hope you enjoyed it and it wasn't too disappointing, next chapter will not be such a long wait.**

**Uni has been trying to kill me and then Tom and Harry didn't want to cooperate when writing but finally we made it :D**

**I want to thank all you wonderful reviewers – you are all amazing! You all have to thank ****NightOwl999 **** as without her you could have been waiting a long time for this chapter, so show her some love :D**

**Also, ****Luke Reid****, thank you for your lovely review and please feel free to flourish me with virtual cookies ;)**

**Amanda2308****, thanks for being a constant support ;)**

**As always, I would love to hear what you all thought, so please leave a review for me? **


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